Give Me Something to Believe
by cherishiskisa
Summary: AU. Dean Winchester is a rockstar, the darling of the music industry. He's going on a nation-wide tour, and Texas reporter Cas Novak has been assigned to accompany him. It's a difficult situation for the both of them, but- after many, many drinks- things start to look up. T for language and themes. HurtComfort and Angst and Romance and Friendship.
1. Hotel

Castiel first snapped his phone shut, then his laptop, stowing both into his carryon. The plane was boarding, and he still had no idea where that damn PR agent had gone.

As the gate emptied, Cas was left more or less alone as the crisp, automated voice of the flight attendant announced that this was the final boarding call for flight 3326 to San Francisco. Castiel rolled his eyes and stood. She could stay behind here in Austin for all he cared. Sure, that meant he wouldn't be able to do this article- even though it was promised to be the biggest story of his career- but he'd get a pressure-free vacation in California. He retrieved his boarding pass from his back pocket and strode decisively towards the scanner, when someone small and blonde barreled into his path.

"Sorry," Jo Harvelle panted, dashing over to get her purse from the waiting area and returning a second later, trying desperately to fix her incredibly messy hair. "Got held up at a book store, reading the latest issue of _People_. There was a really horrible article about that awards show last week, when D-"

"It's fine," Cas almost snapped and turned away from the blonde agent and towards the flight attendant manning the scanner. She was a pretty redhead who beamed at Castiel and sent him through the doors after taking annoyingly long to scan his boarding pass- although he was sure her leaning over the machine had more to do with her desire for him to admire her formidable cleavage than with fixing the scanner.

Their seats were good- business class, of course- and the second the aircraft doors closed, it became apparent that Ms. Harvelle wasn't planning to sit this flight out in silence. Every few seconds, it was "did you see that video where-" or "did you read that article where-" or "did you hear about that interview where-"

Clearly, Ms. Harvelle was very enthusiastic about her client. Had probably been a fan of him before he hired her as PR. And although Castiel admired dedication in the workplace, he much preferred silence to what was currently spewing forth from Jo's pretty mouth. So, he nodded along and stared out of the window, occasionally making quiet noises of assent at moments when Jo stopped talking for a second to breathe.

This story had come out of the blue. Yeah, sure, Cas worked for the largest newspaper in Texas and was the leading music correspondent, but a story this big was completely out of his league.

Dean Winchester, new darling of the music world. Going on a nation-wide tour. Every single show out of the 42 he was playing was completely sold out.

And who got to go along with him, watch from backstage, observe his daily life, analyze every detail? Castiel Novak. Just your average reporter. Won some prize once, he barely even remembered which one, for a story about a music festival back in '09. It was easy to say that he was a big deal in the journalism world, but nowhere near big enough to cover Dean Winchester's Magical Mystery Tour.

Cas was mercifully saved from having to endure four or so hours of Jo yammering on about Dean this, Dean that by a flight attendant coming by and offering them drinks. Cas politely declined, but Jo ordered some fruity soda-type beverage. The second the drink touched her lips, she was unable to talk, and Castiel seized the golden opportunity to whip out his laptop and do a little writing. Upon seeing that he was busy doing what he was being paid to do, Jo managed to shut up and remained mostly silent for the rest of the flight.

Cas typed dutifully away, writing about his past experiences with famous musicians, annoying PR agents, and assorted other tidbits relevant to this incident. He'd probably end up deleting half of them and keep maybe a third of those left for the article. The others would rot in his computer, never to be opened again.

The plane flight seemed much shorter than its four hours and soon Cas was pushing past the redheaded flight attendant, picking up trash on the floor in front of him- really, just attempting to get him to stare at her ass (it worked)- and out into the crisp air of northern California in April.

Wishing he'd brought a slightly warmer jacket with him onto the plane, Cas zipped up the one he was currently wearing and tried to conceal his shivers as Jo bounced up next to him.

"Car should be here soon," she chirped. "Your bags should already be at the hotel, right?"

Cas nodded, not trusting his teeth not to chatter if he opened his mouth.

"I've been meaning to ask," Jo went on, "are you a fan of Dean's music?" Cas couldn't help but smirk slightly at the reverent way in which she said his name, but then proceeded to think quite seriously about the question.

Winchester's music was hard to describe, although Castiel had secretly always found it very appealing. His husky voice, devil-may-care attitude, and almost superhuman good looks were probably what had drawn Jo into his world, but Cas liked it for very different reasons. He felt the soulfulness behind the words and the slightly twangy guitar riffs. Somehow, when he heard Dean sing, he felt like the songs were deeply personal- like Dean was talking to him specifically, telling _him _his story alone. And his story was a tortured one, Cas could tell, even though Dean disguised it by singing more about his various encounters with women and alcohol than about his tortured past and struggles with identity and happiness. But Cas had managed to piece together a very vague tale from the things Dean slipped in between the lines, and intended to fill in the missing spots whilst writing this story.

He blinked and looked at Jo. "Uh, not really, no." The lie came naturally and he never intended to reveal the truth. It'd be much easier that way.

Jo's face fell. "Oh. That- aw. Shame. Maybe spending time with him will make you one! He's a really, um, great guy, no matter what the papers say, and-"

She was off again. Cas felt it would be safe to tune out and instead thought about what he would tell his friends back in Austin- most of whom adored Dean's music very openly and had almost died of jealousy when Castiel had told them about his assignment- about this whole experience once it was over.

An enormous black limo pulled up to the curb right in front of Jo and Cas, and the young woman grinned. "Okay, let's go!" she said, opening the door and sliding into the car as though she lived in it.

Cas raised his eyebrows. "A limo? Seems a bit excessive... Does Mr. Winchester treat all of his reporters this way?"

Jo smiled widely as Cas slid in across from her. "Actually, you're his first."

"What?" Castiel said, somewhat incredulous. "But all those articles in _People_-"

"He never gives interviews, almost. You'll be his first authorized reporter. So you better make it count!" Jo chuckled and pulled out a shiny smartphone. "I'll just call him and tell him we're on our way." A slight note of giddiness entered her voice with the anticipation of talking to Dean again. God, she really was quite the fangirl. Cas heard a slight click on the other end of the line and Jo sat straight up, eyes gleaming. "D- Mr. Winchester?" she said, voice breathy. A pause as he answered. "Yes, this is your PR- no, no, my name is Jo. Jo Harvelle." She tried to keep her face from falling, but she couldn't hide her disappointment. Cas couldn't help but smile- this was probably something that happened a couple times a day. "Yes, that's me. Um, anyway, I was just calling to let you know that we're on our way. Yes, me and the reporter." She glanced at Castiel. "I- what? Really? Er, okay." She pulled the phone away from her ear. "He says he wants to talk to you," she said, looking slightly troubled, and extending the phone towards Cas.

Cas raised his eyebrows. "Okay?..." He took the phone. "Ah- hello?"

There was a slight crackle on the other end of the line and Cas felt something inside him flutter.

"Hello?" he repeated, bemused.

"I heard you the first time, dammit," Dean Winchester, biggest name in music today, said.

"Don't swear at me, dammit," Cas shot back, stiffening, somehow already irritated with the fact that one of his favourite musicians is, in fact, as much of a dick as the tabloids make him out to be.

There was a pause, and a low chuckle from the other end of the line. "Snark, huh? Groovy. I like your guts."

"Oh, goodie," Cas said, rolling his eyes, and trying to ignore Jo, who was gesturing desperately at him to be less disrespectful to her god.

"I'm Dean Winchester."

"You don't say," Castiel said dryly. "I'm Cas Novak."

"That short for something?"

"Yeah- Castiel."

A snort from the other end. "That's, uh, nice."

"I'm glad you think so," Cas said, rubbing his eyes. It was going to be a long tour.

He was met with more quiet laughter from Dean and he had to admit that the man had quite a nice laugh. Even if he was a bit of an egotistical jerk. "Anyway, Cas- it's okay if I call you that, right?- I just wanted to talk to you before we met in person. To get a sense of who I was dealing with. And now I know. Well, I'll see you soon, man. Yep."

"I-"

The line was cut off. Cas stared at the phone in his hand and returned it back to a stunned Jo.

"I've never seen anyone mouth off to him like that and live," Jo said, a mixture of awe and resentment in her voice. "You're lucky."

Cas grinned. "Yes, 'lucky' is the word I was looking for." The limo stopped abruptly and the doors were thrown open by a pimply teenager in bellboy uniform, who stood back respectfully as Castiel and Jo exited the car in front of the hotel.

"The Vitale?" Cas said, raising an eyebrow. "Fancy."

Jo shrugged. "Only the best for our Dean," she replied with a dash of pride.

They checked in and went their separate ways after Jo informed him that he would be staying in the room immediately adjacent to that of Dean's- jealousy all over her face- for tonight only and that the rest of the tour, he would sleep on the tour bus with Dean. The backup band got their own bus, because Dean Winchester liked his privacy and could definitely afford extravagance. But today, Cas could go in and out of Dean's room as he liked in order to "get a friendship started, or whatever," Jo said somewhat bitterly and slunk off to her room two floors below them.

Cas grinned. She was adorable.

He entered his room- deluxe suite, to be precise- to find his bags already there. Kicking his shoes off and loosening his tie, Cas pulled out his laptop and plugged it in to the nearest charger. He decided to go talk to Winchester now and type up some things before bed, get a start on the article. After confirming that his laptop was, in fact, charging- you never knew with his elderly machine- he strode over to the door connecting rooms 802 and 803 and knocked.

Silence.

He knocked again.

"Yeah," someone said distantly from the other side.

Cas turned the unlocked doorknob and entered. Dean's suite was much more elaborate than his own- larger rooms, fancier furniture- but miraculously neat; there were no leopard-print coats strewn over chairs, no leather pants lining the floors. Instead, there were papers covering every flat surface, including the small table in the corner by the balcony, where a figure with short hair with its back to Cas sat writing.

Castiel took a deep breath, steeled himself, and approached.

"You're left-handed," Cas's mouth said, and its owner cursed inwardly. That was a terrible way to greet someone, but his surprise at seeing Dean writing with _not _the hand he used to sign autographs had made him unable to say anything else.

"Ambidextrous," Dean said, crumpled up the paper he was writing on, and threw it with immaculate aim into a wastepaper basket in the opposite corner. He swiveled around in his chair and grinned crookedly at Cas.

Cas had to admit, his heart stopped a little bit.

He had always suspected that pictures and videos could never do Dean justice, and he was correct. The wide eyes were even more ridiculously green, the hair even more perplexingly multi-coloured, the mouth even more- um-

Cas blinked and looked away, feeling that he was getting distracted.

"I'm Cas," he said, making eye contact with Dean again. To his surprise, Dean was looking at him with an odd expression, perfect eyebrows knitted, a slight frown creasing his features. "Something wrong?"

"N-no, I just- your eyes are really fuckin' blue, man," Dean said and grinned again. "I'm Dean. How ya doin'?" He rose from his chair and Castiel's eyes couldn't help but slide down Dean's body, admiring the way his muscles worked together.

"Well," Cas said, not really sure he could say anything else.

"Well what?" Dean said, eyes twinkling, as he approached Cas.

Cas raised an eyebrow. "Nothing. That's the end of that sentence. You asked how I was doing. I am doing well. I answered as such."

There was a bit of a pause, and Dean smiled so warmly at Cas that the room seemed to heat up for a second. "Nice to meet you," he said and extended a hand.

Castiel grasped it and shook firmly, trying to steady his pulse. "Likewise."

"I'm a big fan of your work," Dean said, releasing Cas's hand after holding it a second too long- or was that just Castiel's imagination?- and turning away again.

"My work?" Cas said, confused.

Dean looked back at him. "Yeah, you wrote some article a while back about a peace-and-love-and-music movement festival thing in Aurora. Good stuff."

Cas racked his mind and found nothing. "Thanks?"

"Nah, don't mention it, man, talent is talent." Dean swaggered over to the section of the suite that was supposed to be the kitchen and swung open the mini-fridge. "Drink?"

"I don't drink," Cas said somewhat awkwardly.

Dean whipped around and stared. "What? Ever? What about, like, water and stuff?"

Cas rolled his eyes. "Funny."

A corner of Dean's mouth twitched and he bent down again to look at the mini-fridge. Cas found his eyes drifting towards- but he looked away, reminding himself that yes, although everyone had a mandatory same-gender crush even if they were straight, there was a line he couldn't cross, and he was toeing it.

"I've got some Coke. That okay?" Not waiting for a response, Dean tossed Cas a can and gestured for him to sit down. Castiel did, somewhat gingerly. Dean grabbed a bottle of whiskey, pulled the top off, and put it to his lips, drinking deeply before setting it down on a counter and wiping his mouth.

Cas looked away in an attempt to gather his thoughts. His eyes landed on the pile of papers Dean had been interacting with when he came in. Popping the top of the Coke, he nodded at them and said, "So what are those?"

Dean took another swig. "Stage designs for shows and stuff. Mostly the later ones. I suck, though, so they're just rough ideas."

Castiel, slightly impressed, sipped from his Coke.

"Why don't you drink?"

Cas looked up sharply. Even though it was an extremely personal question and one he was almost never comfortable with answering, there was something to be said for Dean's way of not beating around the bush. "I... Hmmm. Personal reasons."

Dean groaned. "Cop-out. Seriously. Why not?" His eyes were wide and appeared to be genuinely innocent. It was quite possible that he legitimately did not know that he was prying.

Cas shrugged. "I've been sober five and a half years, now. Once upon a time, things got kinda out of hand and..." He sighed. "I've become a lot better since then. I'm glad things are the way they are."

Dean was looking at him with a half-amused, half-admiring expression. "Why not just party life away like the way you want to, man?"

Cas tried and failed not to glare. "Because we can't all be rock stars, Dean. Some of us have to be the responsible ones."

"Ouch," Dean laughed and drank from the bottle again. But Cas couldn't help but see a tiny glimmer of pain in his green eyes. "Sometimes I think life would be a lot more fun for everyone if the responsible ones took the sticks out of their asses and let loose every once in a while." He raised the bottle towards Cas in a mock toast and drank.

Castiel rolled his eyes again and stood. "Okay, well, I'm gonna go. It's almost midnight in Texas, and I still need to adjust to this time zo-"

"Hey, man, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit a nerve," Dean said, no longer laughing. "I wasn't trying to say-"

"No, you're fine, I just actually need to-" Cas gestured back towards the door.

Some unrecognizable emotion flickered in Dean's eyes and he turned away. "It was nice meeting you," he said, but the warmth in his voice was gone.

"You too."

"Night."

"Night."

Castiel closed the door behind him and tried not to hear the sound of breaking glass in the other room.

He got no writing done that night.


	2. San Francisco

Castiel wasn't surprised that Dean wasn't at the hotel's breakfast the following morning. He was probably getting deluxe room service food hand-fed to him by the most gorgeous of the hotel's female staff. _I hope he's enjoying that_, Cas thought savagely, surprising himself. What did he care if Winchester slept with every pretty girl staying and working at the hotel? That's probably what he was doing, anyway, Cas's blessing on him or not.

Swallowing down the last chunk of soggy bacon on his plate, Cas threw a couple bucks onto the table as a tip and went back up to his room.

He brushed his teeth and did normal mundane things- picked out a tie, rolled down the sleeves of his trench coat, put in his cufflinks- and then the giggling started.

A sinking feeling in his stomach, he crept over to the door separating his and Dean's rooms and someone giggled again. A girl. He heard muffled voices- one deep and Dean's, the other feminine and...

Jo's.

Dammit.

Poor thing was going to be corrupted before she even got a chance to live properly.

Before he could allow himself to be tortured by the most unwelcome sounds of all that was surely about to transpire in the next room, Castiel pulled out a pair of headphones and plugged into his computer, powering up his iTunes library and opening a word processor with a clean document. Hitting "shuffle," he began to type.

An acoustic guitar and a mournful hum met his ears, and, strangely enough, having never heard this song before, Castiel stopped, cocked his head to the side, and listened. Drums appeared, a tambourine, a piano, pleasantly out of tune, and some sort of a reedy wind instrument. Curious as to what he was listening to, Cas switched over to the other page and squinted to read the title of the song at the top of the screen.

Artist: Dean Winchester

Song: We've Stopped

Album: Songs For Nowhere, Disc 1

Cas cursed and closed iTunes completely. He'd bought Winchester's new album without having heard a single song except the best-known-top-40-hit-single-of-the-year song that everyone in the country knew by heart. Listened to a couple more songs and then somehow never found the time to finish the whole album.

The song was annoyingly catchy, and Cas found himself re-opening the closed application to start it up again. He wasn't quite sure why he was so irritated with Dean- _maybe it was his dickish attitude, maybe it was his rudeness, maybe it was his temper, maybe it was his endless green eyes, maybe_- but he knew that he wanted to interact with him as little as possible today. Probably for his own good- he seemed to have lost control of his thoughts first time they met, and Castiel was unwilling to let that happen again.

As a writer, though, Cas thought it was okay for his imagination to run free, and didn't think much of his odd lapses in character yesterday.

In the song, Dean began to sing, and Castiel took his hands off the keyboard completely to devote his full attention to the words as he always did.

_I call up an ex, or two, or five_

_Lookin' for some conversation, thinkin' it won't be so_

_Hard- oh, hey, there, Mandy. Your name _is _Mandy, right?_

_Oh, it's Lisa. I-i'm sorry, Lisa._

_I tell her things ain't goin' well for me now_

_She says, same, she's quit her job_

_I say I've never really had one. Ain't it funny, how_

_We've both stopped_

_Yeah, we've just stopped_

_Caring about all the things that we're supposed to_

_Stopped_

_Yeah, we're both stopped_

_At a red light that doesn't want to change_

_Speaking of red lights, I go to see a real close friend of mine_

_Haven't seen her in a while, figure now's as good a time as any_

_Her name is Sugar Candy Apple Tricky Trixie Kitty Valentine_

_She shuts the door in my face. And I just wonder how many_

_Girls' days I've ruined just by showin' back up in their lives_

_Would it be best if I just stayed away? And I dropped_

_All that I was doin' just to make up some dumb lies_

_About "I'm sorry that I left you" and "I'm real sorry that I stopped_

_Yeah, I just stopped_

_Carin' about people that used to mean everything_

_Stopped_

_Yeah, I'm still stopped_

_Stuck at the Equator with no wind in my sails"_

_Speaking of sales, I go down to the grocery store..._

Cas felt something roll down his face as Dean continues to sing in his ears. He put a hand on his cheek and was horrified to find it was a tear. He hadn't realized he was crying, but-

Allergies. It's probably allergies. There's pollen everywhere in San Francisco in spring, and-

Cas wiped his eyes, shut off the music, and stood. Dean had a concert that night, and Cas wanted to be as ready as he could be. He grabbed the extra memory cards for his camera- he was no photographer, but liked to take quick pictures to help him remember the ambience of a moment- and the charger for his laptop. An extra sweater or two, a bottle of water, a notepad with a pen.

The door separating the rooms opened and a very tousle-haired Dean poked his head in. "Hey, Cas."

Cas turned and looked, trying not to stare at how low the cut of Dean's grey v-neck was. "What?"

"We're leaving in twenty minutes. Soundcheck and shit at the park."

Castiel nodded. "Thanks."

"Yeah."

Dean vanished and closed the door.

Cas sighed with a mild feeling of regret that he and Dean somehow managed to get off on the wrong foot. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting- everyone who had ever talked to the guy had either come away with bruised knuckles, knees, or egos. Still, he had harboured a slight hope that Dean would be one of those bad-rap types; lovely, really, just comes on a bit strong.

He was quite disappointed to learn that he was wrong.

Twenty minutes of packing, sporadic typing, and heavy thinking passed quickly and soon Castiel was packed tightly in a black SUV with Dean, Jo, Dean's bodyguard Gordon, a couple random sound guys, and an extremely tall college-looking kid who appeared to be Dean's younger brother Sam. All of Dean's outfits and instruments for the show were in an enormous bus following right behind them filled with equipment and more techies. The opening act was waiting at the stadium already- some unknown pop duo from Colorado. Chosen so as not to outshine Dean, of course.

Cas sighed and sat back, trying to avoid glancing at the man of the hour. He felt bad about being so unkind, but had decided that professional detachment was the only acceptable way to feel towards Dean. Besides, Dean hadn't exactly given Cas any reason to act particularly civil.

Except, when they'd first met...

There had been promise in their first exchanges. It could have been a great and powerful friendship.

But both of them had somehow managed to ruin it.

Little did Cas know that Dean was thinking almost the exact same thing- regretting even more than Cas that things had gone badly. Whose fault was it? Neither of them knew. Neither of them cared much, just wanted it to be better. But both were too proud to ever do anything about it consciously.

They arrived at AT&T Park and started unloading. Everyone from the black SUV went straight to the back of the stadium and entered the backstage area, whilst a crowd of huge guys that seemed to come from nowhere started dragging the amps and soundboards out of the bus.

As everything bustled around him, Cas found a quiet place to sit- a corner tucked in between the stage and the makeshift instant-refreshment station that had been erected so that Dean could grab a water as he rushed off to change shirts during the show. Sam, Dean's brother, came over once or twice for a chat, and although at first Cas was intimidated by the sheer size of the kid, he turned out to be extremely intelligent and a much better conversationalist than his brother. He also made polite small talk with Ash, one of the tech guys- a mullet-sporting stoner type- who'd supposedly programmed the lights, sound, and mechanics for the entire show and was doing it for all the other ones.

"It's gonna be one helluva tour, man!" Ash crowed, high-fiving Cas and vanishing back off into the depths of a sound-booth.

Cas agreed, but probably not with Ash's original meaning.

Onstage, Dean was doing various tests on his various guitars; seeing how they sounded, which amps needed to be adjusted, which pedals needed loosening, so on. Every now and then he'd sing a phrase or two from a song and would stop, usually to scream at Ash or one of the other sound guys about the quality of the mic.

Dick or not, Dean sure could sing.

And every time he did, Cas would stop what he was doing and listen.

Around three guitars in, Dean tried to sing the start to the chorus to a cover of a song he'd made famous again and coughed instead. "Drink," he said, gesturing impatiently in Cas's general area.

Castiel looked around, and, seeing no one else coming to Dean's aid, stood and walked over to the bar. There was an empty water bottle and he took it over to the pitcher of ice water standing a few feet away. He was about to fill up the bottle when Dean huffed impatiently and said, "No, dumbass, the other stuff."

Cas looked back at Dean and raised his eyebrows. Dean's bodyguard Gordon appeared seemingly out of nowhere and gently pushed Castiel out of the way, reaching for a huge, almost empty bottle of vodka to Cas's left. He filled up the bottle and carried it to Dean onstage. Dean smiled, wan, and drank deeply.

"Oh, that's gorgeous. Thanks," he said and set the bottle down next to him, picking up his guitar again. "Where were we, again?"

"Vodka?" Castiel stammered out as Gordon returned. "At ten in the morning?"

"Mr. Novak, we staff all think it's real noble that you're a teetotaler, but I'll thank you to keep your opinions on alcohol to yourself," Gordon said softly.

"B-but- there'll be kids out there in the audience tonight! How can D-"

"Mr. Winchester can hold his liquor well, Mr. Novak. And please remember your place. You are here to write an article, not comment on Mr. Winchester's drinking habits. Writing. Nothing more." Gordon pushed past a stunned Cas and, too, vanished into the darkness.

Hours passed with Cas observing, writing, photographing, and Dean still testing his voice and instruments.

Castiel had been counting, and Dean had had his vodka-water-bottle refilled eight times over the past nine hours.

_You wanna know why I don't drink, Dean? I don't drink because if I did, I would turn into you. _

Finally, Dean ducked backstage and sat next to Cas, a massive grin on his face, and said, "It's showtime, Cassy."

Frowning at the undesirable nickname, Cas nodded. "Sure is."

Dean appeared to be a happy drunk, and Castiel was semi-okay with that. As long as he didn't disturb Cas's writing- he'd just gotten into his ultimate writing mode and all was going well.

Squeals of delight from excited fans filing into the stadium drifted to Dean's ears, and he leaned back and laughed at the ceiling. "Tour kicks off tonight."

"Really," Cas said dryly. "How did I miss that."

Dean giggled and threw a balled-up napkin at Cas. "You're funny."

"I try."

"Mmm, I'll bet you do." Cas glanced over at Dean sharply at that, somewhat concerned. Dean was completely limp in his chair, slightly slack-jawed. He was frowning, too, looking confused at something. "Dude... where am I?"

Castiel cursed under his breath. "San Francisco, Dean. AT&T Park. Your nation-wide tour. First concert."

"No, no, no, no, no, Cassy, that's not what I meant," Dean said, slurring somewhat. "I mean in _life_. Where am I? How did I get here?"

Cas's eyes widened sharply. Could the side of Dean that showed through in his songs actually exist in real life? "I don't know, Dean. That's a question you should ask yourself, not me."

Dean looked at Cas then, huge green eyes full of concern. "I'm... so... confused, Cas. I... I don't know what I-"

"Opening act, showtime in five!" a voice called from behind them.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Better go get my eyeliner on," he said and, sending Cas a two-fingered salute, rose to his feet and lurched off into the blackness.

The duo from Colorado were terrible and all but booed from the stage. They appeared to be relatively inexperienced performers, and the stress and pressure of being the opening act for _Dean Winchester _must have been too much for them.

Poor kids would never make it in the music business.

All the better, that meant less competition for Dean.

And then, it was time.

The lights in the stadium went off.

The crowd went wild.

Suddenly, a spotlight, and everyone in the stadium, Cas included, held their breath.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of San Francisco. My name is Dean Winchester, and I'll be your tour guide tonight."

Cas's heart leaped.

Dean's voice was calm, oozing class, amiable, completely clear. He bowed respectfully to the audience and every single person there went absolutely insane, screaming and flailing and waving.

Dean launched into the first song, "Steampunk Princess," and Cas found himself closing his laptop and putting his camera away. He leaned forward, cupped his face in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees, and just listened.

Man, Dean was good live.

All of the charisma that bubbled up in his recorded music was increased a thousandfold when he was actually singing in front of you. You were drawn to him but afraid of his perfection.

And the water bottle full of vodka was omnipresent at his side. He drank from it often. Repulsed as Cas was by this because of his own habits, he couldn't help but admire the fact that Winchester could, in fact, hold his liquor.

Song after song after song, Dean remained the same. Flirted shamelessly with the world, danced at random moments, laughed at life, everything he was known for.

And Cas realized, quite ashamed, that he knew every single word to the songs that were sung.

"Tall Tales."

"Hats Off."

"Story Of A Girl."

"What Life Is."

"How-To."

"Everything I've Never Known."

"Somehow Stars."

Cas knew them all and sang along under his breath, but so quietly he couldn't even hear himself. For if he sang louder, he would be singing over Dean from where he was sitting. And that would be unacceptable.

"We've Stopped." (Cas managed not to cry this time- barely.)

"Poisoned Words."

"Sha."

"Turbulence."

"Birds' Wings."

"Open The Doors."

Cas laughed at Dean's cheesy, horrible jokes that he made in between songs as he tuned up or drank and felt bad afterwards because they were really, really, truly awful jokes.

"Ghosts Of Fear" and its companion song "Fear Of Ghosts."

"Zachariah."

"Caught By The Jugular."

And Cas could tell at this point that Dean was waning, even though the signs were minuscule.

But Dean just grinned wider, drew a hand across his sweaty face, took a swig of "water," and threw his arms out wide as though he intended to embrace the audience (a few extremely enthusiastic members of said audience attempted to throw themselves onto the stage to accept the hug and failed miserably). "Ladies and gentlemen! I am afraid that we have come to the end of our tour of the galaxy. I hope you enjoyed your stay with me. And, as you leave, let me say goodbye to you with this-"

And the band screamed out the opening chords to the song that had skyrocketed Dean to international stardom in days and that had topped worldwide music charts for months on end, "Let Me Tell You."

_I know that you must hate me _

_And I really just can't blame ya_

_I gave you lots of reasons to_

_But for a classy dame, ya_

_Sure don't mince your words_

_Know you don't think so, but they hurt_

_With every spit and every curse_

_You make my headache even worse_

Cas couldn't help it, he rose to his feet along with the rest of the thousands of fans in the stadium as Dean hit the chorus.

_Let me tell you a story_

_Believe it or not_

_Love really screws ya_

_So return that ring you just bought_

_Your girl, she won't want it_

_Cause mine sure as hell don't_

_Run now, while you can_

_Ah, but I know that you won't_

_Let me tell you a story_

_Of how love breaks your brain_

_And you may not feel it_

_But in a few weeks, bam! pain_

_The heart can stay free_

_It's the brain that gets screwed_

_So run now, while you can_

_Don't be an idiot, dude._

This went on for a few more minutes, with Dean thanking the audience and the band and everyone that supposedly made the concert possible. And, finally, the song drew to its shuddering close, fireworks erupted from both sides of the stage, and there was a sudden blackout and Dean was gone.

The audience cheered for five or so minutes after Dean left the stage and then started to leave the stadium, still hyped up from the show. Cas checked his watch. It had lasted two and a half hours.

Castiel stretched and reached down for his laptop, thinking it'd be better to assemble his things now rather than waiting for all of the sound people to clear out first.

And suddenly, Dean stumbled right into him.

"D-dean! I- hey, great show, man," Cas said, trying to hide his enthusiasm. Dean looked at him, normally sharp eyes bloodshot and unfocused. "You okay?" he asked, knowing the answer.

Dean shook his head mutely and lurched forward a bit, but instead of going past Castiel, he managed to go straight into him. His sense of direction was completely shot, obviously. Okay, maybe Dean wasn't a happy drunk after all.

"Jesus, Dean, how much did you have?" Cas said, starting to get seriously worried. He'd seen the effects of alcohol overdosing in college and it hadn't been pretty. And the strange desire to push Dean's sweaty hair back from his forehead was extremely powerful, but Cas braced himself and ignored it.

"Why d'you hate me, Casssss?" Dean slurred, sudden anger in his voice, as he looked at Cas accusatorially.

Taken aback, Cas blinked. "I- I don't hate you."

"You don'like meeee. Why not?" Dean was turning into a whiny child, and Cas felt himself getting slightly irritated.

"Because you drink too much, Dean. Now stop being ridiculous."

"Nooo," Dean protested and grabbed a handful of Cas's shirt front by the collar. Cas caught his breath and didn't resist. "I- you- I was _nice _to you. I tried to be _friends_. But it didn't work." He sounded surprised and incredibly hurt. "You _left_." He took a deep shuddering breath. "Why does _everyone _always leave me? What'm I doing wrong?" He looked down and to the side and Cas saw his lower lip trembling.

Suddenly, what Dean was saying hit home. And Cas felt his heart breaking for this poor, sad creature clinging to him. Everyone always did leave him. It says so in every single song. And Cas- Cas was no better than any of the lowlife gold-digging loser friends Dean so bitterly criticized. Aghast, he stared at Dean. He wanted to apologize, but couldn't find sufficient words, so instead, he looked away and said, "You- you don't know what you're saying. You're drunk."

Dean laughed bitterly, breathing what felt like gallons of alcohol into Castiel's face. He leaned slightly closer and acquired a conspiratorial air. "That's my secret, Cas: I'm _always _drunk."

"I don't doubt it," Cas said and winced, hating himself for being so cruel. But he honestly didn't know how else to treat this guy in this state- Dean looked like he was a minute away from passing out.

Actually, make that eight seconds.

Dean was a lot heavier than he looked, but with Gordon's help, Cas managed to drag the comatose rockstar back to the SUV and eventually back up to his hotel room.

Apologizing silently, Cas reached into the back pocket of Dean's jeans- _ignoring everything, yes, ignoring, not noticing anything at all, no, no, just ignoring_- and pulled out the room key and unlocked the door, then walking Dean to the bed and practically flinging him onto it.

He was about to turn and leave when he bent down and tenderly did what he'd been meaning to do all night- returned Dean's hair to its rightful place standing straight up and not plastered to his forehead. He stood there for a second, checking to see if Dean had a fever and, after confirming that he didn't, pulled his hand away and looked at the comatose, broken man.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," he whispered and turned to go.

Suddenly, a raspy voice broke the silence that had quickly filled the room. "Stay."

Castiel turned back around frowned. "What?" He squinted at the shadowy form on the bed. "Dean?"

"Stay." A small sound as Dean swallowed to be able to talk better. "Pl-please."

Deciding that he owed him at least that much, Cas sat down in a chair close to the bed. "Alright, Dean."

"Will you stay?" came the quiet response and it sounded so lonely and childish that Cas could practically feel his heart breaking all the way.

"I'm not going anywhere tonight," Cas said softly and moved the chair a little closer. "Now sleep, Dean." He cautiously reached out a hand and ruffled Dean's hair gently.

"Okay," Dean said sleepily and Cas could hear the grin on his face. And then Dean mumbled something into his pillow and, although it was hard to be sure, it sounded like "Thank you, Cas."

They fell asleep at the exact same moment.


	3. Los Angeles

Cas woke up and, for a second, had no idea of where he was. Then he smelled the alcohol on his shirt and remembered every minute of the painful events of the concert the previous night.

Looking down at the sleeping rockstar on the bed in front of him, Castiel sighed. The poor man had demons. Powerful ones. The way he chose to deal with them was far less than admirable, but it was something, at least.

At least he was surviving them.

Cas jumped. Dean's eyes were open and steely as he frowned at the reporter across from him.

"G-good morning," Castiel stammered out, slightly unnerved by Dean's staring.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean hissed.

Cas raised his eyebrows. "I... I slept here. You asked me to stay."

Dean groaned and sat up. "I really doubt that, man."

"You were drunk."

"I'm always drunk."

"Yeah, so you've said."

They stared each other down for a few more seconds.

"What happened?" Dean swallowed again- clearly, his throat was really dry from the copious amounts of alcohol he'd imbibed.

Cas rose and walked over to the bar, pouring two glasses of water, talking as he did. "You performed. Drank a whole lot of vodka. Got really upset about- uh, something, and passed out on me. Gordon and I dragged you back here and you asked me to stay. So I did." He took a glass in each hand and returned to his chair, ignoring Dean's protests at the fact that the liquid wasn't alcoholic. "You need water. I won't have you drinking away a hangover with more liquor."

"I'm not hungover," Dean said, tried to take the glass, and missed by a foot. Looking extremely confused, he tried again, and managed to hold the glass for two seconds before spilling it all over the bed. He swore and gave up.

Cas smiled, trying not to be endeared, and handed Dean his glass. "That's what happened. Do you remember any of it?"

Dean drank deeply, closing his eyes. Cas tried and failed not to stare at the way he could practically see the water going down Dean's throat. "Not really. Kinda. I maybe remember throwing up somewhere."

Castiel winced. "In the SUV. All over Vera."

Dean's eyes shot open and he gasped. "Oh, please tell me you're kidding!"

Cas shook his head and Dean swore in dismay.

Vera was Dean's most prized possession, hands-down. His first guitar ever, it had been given to him by his father when Dean was just a kid and didn't even know how to play. After John Winchester died in a house fire along with Dean's mom when Dean was in his late teens and mercifully away at summer camp with Sam, Dean made a promise to himself to learn to play that guitar in his father's memory.

...or, uh, that's what Wikipedia said, anyway.

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine. Gordon cleaned her off pretty well."

"Why did I even bring her into the car with me, anyway?"

Cas looked at Dean incredulously. "Have I mentioned that you were _drunk _as _hell_?"

Dean set the glass down and rubbed his eyes. "Leave."

"What?"

"You heard me. Get out."

Cas stood, trying to control his frustration. "Why?"

"I need to be alone, dammit. Now _leave_. Don't make me say it again." With a final frown, Dean turned away from Cas.

Castiel shook his head incredulously and left, slamming the door behind him.

And he'd tried to be nice to the guy after what had been said last night. Thought he deserved it.

But no- Dean was no different from any other rockstar. Too much drinking and too much attitude. Cas cursed himself for thinking any differently for a second after meeting him.

But the things he'd said last night, about everyone leaving him?...

Pushing away the nagging doubts, Cas convinced himself it had been the vodka talking and returned to his room to write something angry.

He wasn't quite sure as to why he desired Dean's approval so much. Dean certainly didn't deserve his. Maybe it was still a foolish hope that Dean's songs showcased the _real _Dean as opposed to a fake personality that appeared only when Dean needed to make money.

But surely, at this point, Cas had seen enough of the actual real Dean to know that the version that appeared in his songs was, in fact, not real.

He shook his head and sat at the desk, powering up his laptop. It would probably be a bad idea to write the hate-rant he wanted to- someone might find it, or Cas might accidentally publish it, and his reputation would be ruined, as would Dean's be.

So instead, he jotted down memories of his childhood. They had nothing to do with the article, which Cas felt himself getting seriously behind on, but were quite soothing to write and helped him calm down.

A few minutes later, Jo knocked on his door and told him to pack quickly because, as no one had informed him earlier, they were leaving in the tour bus to drive to Los Angeles in half an hour.

Cas packed as fast as he humanly could, remembered that he was still in yesterday's clothes, swore, changed, and resumed packing, barely managing to grab his laptop and charger before barreling out the door 29 minutes and 18 seconds after Jo had told him.

Panting, he threw his suitcase into the tour bus and boarded, expecting to find Dean already there.

Of course, the bus was completely empty.

Half an hour later, Cas watched Dean stumble out of the hotel, bleary, and with an attractive maid on his arm. He grinned at her and, after a sloppy kiss, waved as she retreated back into the hotel.

Cas rolled his eyes. _Douchebag._

After watching Dean ignore his poor manager's angry complaints against Dean's lateness for five minutes, Cas had had enough. He turned away from the bus's window and opened his laptop, hitting "shuffle" in the iTunes library again and re-opening the document he'd started with his anecdotes about previous experiences with musicians.

And, of course, it was "Crack a Smile" by Dean Winchester.

Cas swore and pressed "next song."

"Tell On Me" by Dean Winchester.

Next.

"Lifetimes Ago" by Dean Winchester.

Next, for Christ's sake.

"I'll Jump Too" by Dean Winchester.

It appeared that Cas's shuffle function was broken.

Declaring defeat when "Poppy" by Dean Winchester appeared, Cas sat back against the leather back of the tour bus's luxuriant seats and began to type.

And almost jumped out of his skin when a hand pulled his headphones out of his ears. He looked up, trying to steady his pulse.

Dean.

Surprise.

"What'cha listenin' to, Cassy?" he said and reached for the laptop.

"Don't call me that," Cas growled and attempted to snatch the computer away before it was too late.

But Dean had seen the song title and was now grinning at Cas mischievously. "So you're a fan."

Cas shook his head and grabbed the computer back. "My... sister is," he began lamely, attempting to come up with an excuse. "We share an iTunes account."

"Right." With a surprisingly fluid motion, Dean leaned over him and clicked "top 25 most played." Castiel blushed a deep red to the tips of his ears when it became apparent that every single one was Dean down to number 17.

Dean turned his head to look at Cas and Cas froze, for Dean's face was only a few inches away from his.

God, he was even more magnificent up close.

_But he's a dick,_ Cas reminded himself._ Not worth crushing on. Also, I'm _straight_, dammit._

Dean smiled slowly, and Cas was secretly glad that the warmth had returned to his perfect face. "Well, shit, Cas, why didn't you say so?" Laughing amiably, Dean slid out from in front of Castiel and sat across from him, feet resting next to Cas on the seat.

Cas rolled his eyes and ignored Dean.

"If I'd known that you liked my stuff, I wouldn't'a-"

"Been a complete dick to me?" Cas interrupted, looking up at Dean accusingly. "So is that how it works, then? You're only somewhat civil to people if they adore you? And if they don't really care about you, you don't care about them at _all_? That's messed up, Mr. Winchester. There's something really wrong with you if that's your system."

Expecting a retort, Cas was surprised to find Dean staring at him, green eyes wide and- was it Cas's imagination?- glistening. His mouth was open- _don't stare, no, no, don't, now is not the time for that_- and he appeared to be searching for words. Instead, he just shook his head slowly, expression still shocked. "That's what you think?" he said eventually. "That- that I don't _care_? About you? About anyone?"

"You've given me no reason to think different," Cas said firmly, feeling somewhere that he should stop, but finding himself unable to.

"You're wrong," Dean said, voice breaking a little. "I do care. I care too much." He looked around and took a deep breath, seeming to blink tears out of his eyes. "And- and if anyone on this bus is a dick, it's you, _Mr. Novak_."

And with that, he stood, not looking at Cas, and went to a different section of the bus, leaving Cas alone with his thoughts.

Could he have been wrong? Is there a broken, lonely poet under all of the alcohol and women after all?

Cas's disturbing train of thought was derailed by the sounds of a guitar being played from the back of the bus where the entertainment systems were. He rose quietly to his feet and crept to the source of the sound curiously.

It was Dean, of course.

He was sitting with his back to the door where Cas was looking in and plucking mournfully at Vera. Castiel recognized the opening chords to the song he'd just been listening to, "Poppy," and held his breath- it was one of his favourites, in fact.

_You drugged my mind_

_An unkind thing to do_

_Completely hypnotized_

_I struggle to see through_

_The lies you've been spreading_

_The words I've been dreading_

_To hear. "I love you."_

_Please, no you don't._

_I don't believe in love or you_

_Sure, I have been in love, true,_

_But that was then and this is now_

_I gotta break away somehow-_

_Poppy_

_Scatter your seeds somewhere else_

_There's too little room in my head for more doubt_

_Poppy_

_Classic example of a red dress dame_

_I'm leaving you- aw, don't give me that pout_

Cas entered the room and sat across from Dean, hands folded in his lap. "Hey," he said softly.

No response from Dean, except he missed a chord, swore, and tried again, going into the second verse.

_So I came home to you_

_And you accused me of cheating_

_I got mad and left_

_Ain't that kinda defeating_

_The purpose of being_

_In a healthy relationship? Seeing_

_All of their flaws_

_And wanting them still_

_I never saw you that way_

_And I don't think I ever will_

_Don't give me those eyes_

_I can see through your lies_

_And_

_Poppy_

As Dean went into the chorus one more time, Cas found himself not listening to the music for once so much as watching Dean performing.

But he wasn't performing.

The Dean he'd seen on stage last night was completely different from the one in front of him right then.

This one was sincere. No bravado, no cute faces, no vocal runs or anything.

He was telling a story, and he was telling it to Cas.

When Castiel listened to Dean's music he had gotten that sense. The sense of something deeply personal and intended for only one audience member. And Cas couldn't help but feeling that that audience member was him, even though they had never met.

And hearing Dean sing this song in person increased that feeling a thousandfold.

Dean wrapped up the song and the room filled with silence.

"Dean, I-"

"Whatever, Cas." He sounded tired. "Sorry I called you a dick."

"That's okay. I was just-"

Dean rose to his feet and turned to leave. "Save it." He took a breath. "I'm gonna sleep for the rest of the drive. Only wake me up if we're crashing."

"I- okay?"

Dean, with a final glance at Cas that was filled with so much meaning that he couldn't understand it, turned and vanished off into a top bunk, not bothering to draw the curtains behind him.

The rest of the drive was uneventful. Cas managed to listen to Adele's entire discography- he really hadn't been lying about his and his sister's iTunes being connected- and wrote a few pages about the tour so far.

But he was distracted- the feelings of guilt at being so unkind to Dean gnawed at him steadily until he was completely unable to focus.

Cas stood and moved through the open doorway into the sleeping area and decided to lie down and write there. He lay down in the bunk opposite and below Dean's sleeping form and began to write. He somehow found it easier to write in a semi-prostrate position and wrote a few half-decent pages.

Dean didn't snore, but he did talk in his sleep. Not words per se, which would have been fine, but just garbled collections of sounds. It was slightly unnerving and every time he spoke Cas would jump a little.

Castiel had just gotten into his writing sweet spot when Dean muttered something and rolled over onto the other side so he was facing Cas. One arm was falling off the side of the bunk and the other tucked up against his chest.

Cas couldn't help but stare.

Even when he was asleep, Dean was exceptional. He breathed slowly and evenly, chest rising and falling in a way that was frankly hypnotizing. His eyelashes- Jesus, they were long- fluttered occasionally. And his lips were slightly parted.

Cas blinked and looked away, somewhat concerned by how attractive he found this man. _I mean, I'm straight. Right?_

Cas had never really doubted his sexuality. He'd pretty much always been attracted to girls. But the first time he ever laid eyes on a picture of Dean, the thought had crossed his mind that he might swing both ways. Sure, he was more likely to be attracted to a girl than to a guy, but it didn't mean it couldn't happen. The proof of that was sprawled out on a bunk bed a few feet away from him.

Shrugging, Cas began to type again, only to be interrupted by the sound of a low chuckle drifting down from the top bunk across from him. He looked up. Dean had somehow managed to wake up in the two seconds that Cas hadn't been staring at him and was now laughing softly to himself.

"Were you watching me sleep?" he asked, voice mocking, but in a friendly way. Cas felt himself turn pink.

"No," he said indignantly. "I was- uh, you rolled over and I thought you might fall off and onto the floor and break your neck. And if you did I wouldn't have a story anymore." He held his breath, worried Dean might have woken up in a bad mood and would take it the wrong way. It was so hard to tell where Dean had lines not to be crossed.

To his relief, Dean grinned. "Thanks. But just so you know, if I roll off the bed and fall, I'll make special care to fall onto you and break _your _neck. And then I wouldn't have a story either."

The two men smiled at each other in the semi-darkness that belied the fact that it was only 3 PM.

"How was your nap?" Cas asked, turning back to his computer.

"Delightful," Dean said and, sitting up so his legs dangled over the side of the bunk, stretched like a cat. It was hard not to stare, and Cas gave into his impulse to.

"Listen, Dean, I'm sorry I-" Cas began, but Dean cut him off with a slightly impatient wave of his hand.

"Hey, no chick-flick moments. It's all good, man. I don't hold grudges."

A brief pause, and Cas shrugged. "Alright."

"How's the article coming?"

Cas considered the question. "Not badly. It's very rough at this point, mostly broken up into little anecdotes and stuff. Most aren't even that relevant to it." He sighed. "Okay, maybe badly."

"Can I read it?" Dean asked, voice perking up.

Castiel looked at him sharply. "Of course not," he said and felt another pang of guilt as Dean's face fell. "It would be considered unprofessional of me. You would be able to argue points about your personality, or your staff's, and would insist that some events had gone differently than they had, and it would just be a bad time. I'm supposed to be writing this article uninfluenced by outside forces."

Dean pursed his lips- _damn, I shouldn't be noticing that, should I?_- and considered. "Fine." He slid off the bunk and landed gracefully on the floor. "I'm gonna go get a beer. Want anything?" Cas shook his head without looking up, doubting that the bus's mini-fridge contained anything nonalcoholic, and Dean made a small frustrated sound. "It's so hard, spending time with a non-drinker. Still, suit yourself." Without waiting for a response, he turned and left.

Castiel didn't see Dean again for the rest of the drive- he assumed the guy had just drunk himself into oblivion. So he was surprised that when they arrived in LA and went up to the front of the bus, he found Dean sober and looking contemplatively out of the window, holding a small, worn notebook and a pen. His long, spidery fingers- _stop paying attention to them, Cas, just stop_- were ink-stained and tapping out a rhythm on the paper in front of him.

"Writing new music?" he asked quietly, approaching.

Dean looked at him in surprise, apparently not having heard him come in. "Yeah," he said and swung the notebook shut.

"For the upcoming album?"

Dean smirked and said no.

Cas sat down next to him- at a safe distance, of course- and leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. He'd been curled up on his bunk for a while and it felt good to be in a different state of being.

He glanced over at Dean only to find him staring at Cas with a slightly slack-jawed look. With a jolt that wasn't quite unpleasant, Castiel recognized the facial expression; it was the same thing he had on his face when he was spacing out whilst staring at Dean. _Could it be that-_

"What?" Cas asked. Anything to break the silence and derail his dangerous train of thought.

"Nothing." Dean cleared his throat and looked away. "Have I mentioned that you have ridiculously blue eyes? I mean, it's almost hilarious. They are way too blue." He started to laugh quietly.

Cas frowned and squinted at Dean. "Are you... high?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "No. I'm just naturally like this." There was a brief pause. "No, seriously, though, do you, like, wear contacts or something?"

Cas shook his head. "Nah."

Dean made an appreciative face. "Not bad."

There was a silence as they stared at each other, words traveling silently in between them. Cas couldn't really understand what was being said, but he could feel it was something really important. Either that, or Dean was just zoning out again and just happened to be looking soulfully into Cas's eyes.

Jo suddenly poked her head in through the door leading to the front of the bus where the driver sat. "Okay, _boys._" He noticed a slight tinge of resentment in her voice and that she avoided looking at Dean completely. Cas glanced at him, and sure enough, Dean was smiling, face full of pity. "Let's unload and go. Pretty much everything is set up already in the hall, so, yeah. Curtain in two and a half hours." She left and Dean started to laugh quietly.

"Poor kid," he said and shook his head sadly.

"What happened?" Cas asked, and immediately regretted it. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear about the shenanigans Dean had gotten up to with unfortunate Jo.

"Nothin', man. Stop judging me." Dean smiled again to show that he was joking, and went on. "She showed up in my room yesterday morning and kinda jumped me. I really politely told her I wasn't really interested but she was kinda, um, insistent."

"You told her no," Cas clarified, somewhat impressed at Dean's self-restraint. Dean nodded seriously. "Weird. She's gorgeous."

A wide smile crossed Dean's face. "I know, right?" He stopped smiling and looked away, serious again. "I'm no cradle-robber, though. She's, like, 19 or something."

"And already a PR agent for the biggest deal in music in America. Wow. Crazy kid," Cas said, feeling a slight fondness for the ambitious girl.

"Oh, you flatter me," Dean said, winked- _stop, no, he didn't mean anything by it_- and stood. "I'm gonna go soundcheck. You can stay, we don't really need you to do things. Concert starts at, uh, whenever Jo said it started. But I'm doing a few meet-and-greets first, dunno if you wanna be there for that." And, with another two-fingered salute- that was quite the habit of his- Dean turned and skipped down the stairs out of the bus.

What an extraordinary man.

Cas had never met someone quite so bipolar- one second, he was witty and your best friend, the next, he was surly and mean. Cas wasn't quite sure yet as to what set him off and made him angry. It'd be a useful thing to know, he was sure.

Accessing the local WiFi, Cas checked his email and answered belligerent messages from people who disagreed with the various opinions he'd expressed in his articles until he looked at his watch and determined it was time for him to go in. Dean had said something about a meet-and-greet with fans, and Cas definitely wanted to see him interact with people that weren't Cas himself or Dean's staff.

He entered the back of the concert hall where Dean was performing only to find a huge line of mostly teenage girls- but a few youngish guys, too- talking excitedly amongst themselves, comparing posters, and just screaming delightedly. He smiled. Fans were so cute.

Dean was at the far, far end of the line. Cas could tell that he was completely sober, which surprised him. He was in the process of signing an autograph for a petite brunette who was practically bouncing off the ceiling in delight. He looked up at Cas as he approached and shot him a small smile, returning his attention to the girl a second later.

"Well, have a good night, Susan," Dean said and returned her her collector's edition Rolling Stone with Dean all over the cover and her pink Sharpie. She beamed.

"Okay!" she said, and rushed off back to her group of friends who'd already gotten their signatures and they began to squeal together.

Dean gestured for Cas to sit in a chair next to that of Dean's behind the long table they were at and then waved to the next girl to come up. "Hi," he said, and that single word seemed to drive the poor thing insane. She was hyperventilating and crying a little, and Dean and Cas exchanged amused glances as she stammered out a greeting and extended her deluxe copy of one of Dean's older CDs.

He signed it and held it out so the girl could take it back, but when she put out her shaking hand, he took it gently, grinned disarmingly at her, and softly pressed his lips to the back of her hand.

Cas tried to push away his almost nauseating jealousy and distract himself by looking at how flustered the girl instantly became. She blushed so dark she almost became purple and, after thanking Dean a million times and taking back the CD, pulled away and promptly stumbled face-first into a wall.

Dean chuckled and Cas looked at him disapprovingly. "What?" Dean said defensively.

Castiel shook his head, slightly amused, and said nothing.

"Hi, Dean," an extremely loud voice said from right in front of them. Dean twitched and looked. There was a curvy blonde standing there, smacking her gum loudly as she gave Dean bedroom eyes to the max. Dean was about to smile widely as his eyes dropped to her chest area- of course they would- but stopped when he noticed the shirt she was wearing: "FUTURE MRS. WINCHESTER," it read in enormous sparkly letters.

He looked at Cas uneasily and then back at the girl. "H-hi," he said meekly and signed her poster, covered in lipstick marks.

She grinned brashly and went over to the large group of girls, proclaiming loudly that "I think he liked me!"

Dean rolled his eyes at Cas and invited the next girl up.

She handed Dean her commemorative Magical Mystery Tour t-shirt and waited while he signed, eyes falling onto Cas in a way that made him shift uncomfortably. "Who's this?" she asked Dean coyly.

Dean raised his head and looked at Cas. Was it just Cas's imagination, or did a flash of annoyed jealousy cross his face? "A homicidal schizophrenic, released out of the local prison to come to this concert. It's therapeutic for him. Keeps him from goin' all _Texas Chainsaw Massacre _on us, as much as he may want to." Dean grinned pleasantly at the girl, who avoided both pairs of eyes looking at her and scuttled away, face simply terrified.

Dean and Cas looked at each other and Dean started to laugh as Cas frowned, though he couldn't help but be endeared. "Homicidal schizophrenic? Seriously?" Cas asked, trying to conceal his smile.

Dean nodded and, wiping a good-natured tear from a twinkling green eye, greeted the next group in the line.

This went on for half an hour or so, and the line came to an end.

"Well, that was fun," Dean said and yawned.

"Totally," Cas agreed sarcastically. Truth be told, he had been much impressed with Dean's treatment of his fans. He was both flirtatious and fatherly, somehow. He treated every single one of them with kindness, no matter how crazed they were. "But I'm surprised you were sober for this." The words were out of Cas's mouth before he could taste how horribly bitter they were. He regretted having said anything the second Dean looked at him, but there was no malice in Dean's steady green gaze.

Dean shook his head and smiled grimly. "Never in front of the fans up close, man. I respect them too much."

"That's certainly admirable," Cas said, "but doesn't excuse the fact that you practically drank yourself to death last night because the fans weren't up close."

"I'll probably- ah, make that definitely- do the same thing this night, too. Cas, I'm a good actor. I can hide the fact that I'm dead drunk for as long as I need to."

Cas looked away, fearing that if he kept eye contact with this remarkable human for a second longer he might do something he'd regret.

Dean stood and stretched. "Showtime in ten. See you backstage, man." With a thumbs-up, he retreated into the darkness behind the table.

The show was uneventful. Pretty much the the same as the one last night. Dean was probably even more drunk, although he managed to handle it pretty well. He really was great at hiding his intoxication. Cas admired that Dean was still exactly as enthusiastic tonight as yesterday- he was quite the performer.

A couple hours later, Dean stumbled out into the cool air of the Los Angeles night and, as much as he wanted to go out and party with the best of Hollywood, Cas and Gordon wouldn't let him. Dean, oddly enough, didn't argue with this too much and allowed himself to hang limply in Cas's arms as he was dragged back to the bus.

"Can you climb up there yourself?" Cas asked cautiously once they had entered the sleeping area.

Dean looked up at the top bunk blearily and shifted the arm that he had draped around Cas's shoulders- Cas was trying extremely hard and failing not to notice how close together their faces were (the fact that Dean smelled like a town filled solely with liquor stores helped ignore that). "I'll sleep'n the bottom one," he slurred and released Cas's shoulders, flopping sideways onto the bed, fully clothed and still wearing shoes.

Cas smiled fondly. "You don't wanna change or anything?"

"Into what?" Dean grunted into a pillow that had appeared out of nowhere.

"Guess not," Cas said and pulled his own shoes off.

"Thank you, Cas," Dean mumbled, as was becoming quite the bedtime tradition, and passed out. Cas couldn't help but take a blanket off the top bunk and drape it over the rockstar's prostrate form, laughing quietly to himself at how maternal that gesture was.

Cas wrote late into the night.

Dean snored when he slept drunk.


	4. Phoenix

A bus drive that passed in almost utter silence broken only by Dean's picking away at a guitar as he continued to write that new song and occasional complaining that Dean had been forbidden to ever visit Las Vegas again ("Dude, it was _one time! _Yeah, I got a little drunk and knocked some things- and people- over, but... Vegas is a helluva city. Ladies are _crazy. _And the crowds are great. I'm tellin' you, man. We're really missing out by not going to Vegas.") later, Cas sat backstage at another of Dean's concerts, continuing to marvel at Dean's stage presence.

He just never calmed down, did he? He was always energetic and friendly and playful. Cas found himself loving that about him.

And then pushed those thoughts out of his head, focusing instead on his writing.

After the concert ended, Cas returned back to the bus, not waiting for Dean to lurch out drunkenly. There was only so much bus-mate-dragging that could happen over the course of three days, and Cas had pretty much hit the limit.

He sat there, typing away in the semi-darkness, one headphone in, bobbing his head along to- surprise- one of Dean's earliest songs.

Cas half-heard the door to the bus swing open and feminine giggling. He rolled his eyes, expecting the worst.

Dean entered, surprisingly sober, with a lanky white-blonde girl in a grey tank top laughing on his arm. Cas looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, finding Dean with the same face he had had when Cas was stretching the previous day- that of confusion, awe, and attraction.

It was probably Cas's imagination, though.

Probably.

"Aren't you gonna introduce me to your friend, Dean?" the girl said prettily and bit her pink lower lip, just missing the small ring in the lower right corner of it.

Dean tore his eyes away from Castiel and looked back at the girl. "Actually, Harper, Cas here was just leaving. Right, Cas?"

Cas rolled his eyes and glared at Dean with eyes saying "you owe me one." Dean nodded, a childish desperation in his green eyes. Castiel closed his laptop, pulled out his headphone, and stood. "Yeah. I was just gonna go get a coffee at the cafe across the street, do some more writing..."

"Great," Dean said with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. It was oddly genuine for a snarky face.

As he passed the two of them, Cas happened to glance down at the girl's almost bare shoulders. In between her collarbone and neck there were tattooed two letters in swirly blue- "D.W."

"Nice tattoo," he said and glanced at Dean, who looked surprised- apparently, he hadn't been looking anywhere above her sternum.

The girl smiled at Cas widely. "Thanks."

"Dean Winchester, I assume?" Cas said and smirked at Dean's unease.

The girl narrowed her eyes in a failed attempt to appear mysterious. "Maybe. Or maybe Doctor Who. I'm not quite sure yet."

"What's Doctor Who?" Dean asked with an eyebrow cocked up.

"A British TV show," Cas and Harper said in unison and grinned at each other.

"So you're a nerdy type, too," Harper breathed and reached up, tracing a delicate finger down the collar of Cas's shirt. He pulled away politely and a slow smile drifted across her lips. "You're invited, too, if you want, tonight."

"You are _not _invited," Dean said firmly and Cas, getting the message, turned to go.

"Nice meeting you, Harper." She smiled at him warmly. "You kids have fun, now."

Dean winked at Cas and, putting an arm around Harper's thin shoulders, started to move her towards the back of the bus.

Cas shook his head incredulously and left, laptop in tow, to go to the cafe.

He ordered a large Lapsang Souchong tea and, once it had arrived, sat at a small corner booth and typed steadily for forty-five minutes or so.

To his surprise, he was interrupted from writing by Dean sliding in across from him and, beaming at the waitress- who was well over forty- ordering a double espresso.

Cas, not sure what the appropriate question to ask in this situation would be, simply raised an eyebrow.

Dean rubbed his eyes, looking tired, and slumped back into the polished leather of the booth. "I dunno, man. The world is full of some weird-ass people."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Was sex while sober too uncomfortable for you?" Cas said gruffly and took a sip of his tea.

Dean shook his head, a smile tugging up at the corner of his mouth. Soon, he started to laugh quietly. "I like you, Cas," he said once he had stopped. "You're funny. You're a total ass, but funny."

"Thanks, Dean," Cas said dryly. "Means a lot." He drank again. "So what happened?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, she wanted to. But I... I don't know why, I just... I didn't. So I told her sorry and left." He smiled, eyes crinkling again. "Heh. She said if we ever wanted to turn our line into a triangle, we should give her a call. Whatever that means. Crazy kid." (Cas heard this and understood- tips of his ears turning pink- but, deciding not to say anything, acted like he hadn't.)

"So when you said the world is full of weird-ass people you were talking about yourself," Cas said, blue eyes twinkling. "Second time this week that you've turned down a beautiful woman. Quite unlike the Dean we all know and fear."

Dean raised both eyebrows. "She seemed pretty into you. You can have her, if you want."

Castiel frowned. "I-it doesn't work like that in real life, Dean. Hate to break it to you."

Dean considered as his coffee arrived. "Eh, guess you're right. Since you're not me and all. Bottoms up!" He downed the tiny cup in one gulp and then set it on the table, feeling the caffeine run up his veins. Even his hair seemed to stick up a little higher at the jolt. "Ooh. Good stuff. How's your indie hipster drink there?"

"...it's called tea, Dean. It's sophisticated."

"Then why aren't you sticking your pinky out?" Dean asked innocently and batted his eyelashes.

Cas groaned and, trying and failing miserably to hide his smile, tossed a balled-up napkin at Dean, who caught it and threw it back.

And that is the story of how two grown men had a napkin fight whilst giggling in a 24-hour cafe in downtown Phoenix.

Once they had settled down slightly- that may or may not have had to do with the constant reprimands from the aging waitress- they sat and looked at each other in silence, both still grinning from ear to ear.

They talked late into the night, thoroughly freaking out all other customers and staff by not leaving for hours.

Turned out they actually had a lot in common. Dean's relationship with Sam was almost identical to Castiel's issues with his sister Anna. They both had broken their right arms just above the elbow in middle school. Dean had an extraordinary fondness for vintage cars and Cas one for typewriters. Both loved pie, although Dean probably a whole lot more.

The list went on, as did the night.

They ended up with a tab that was 48 dollars and 29 cents and split it- a _lot _of coffee had happened.

When they returned to the bus, instead of sleeping, they stayed up and talked until shamefully late. There wasn't another concert until the next night, and that wasn't that long of a drive away- the whole tour group left in the morning to go to Tucson. So they had plenty of time to talk.

It seemed they couldn't stop the words when they were together. Both wondered how they hadn't discovered this before and both regretted that.

Cas found himself telling Dean his whole life story as they lay in bottom bunks across from each other- ugly history with drinking, family, school and all. Dean told Cas about how he'd gotten started in music, really started- "not that dumb crap that's on Wikipedia or whatever, dude. The _actual_ story. Not somethin' I usually tell people."

"Lucky me," Cas said with a smile in his voice.

"Yeah!" Dean said and Cas could hear him smiling back. He wondered if his eyes were crinkling at the corners again, if that dimple by the right side of his mouth was appearing, if- _okay, stop it, Cas, get a hold of yourself, man, come on. _

As Dean spoke, voice hushed and acquiring a slight rasp from talking so long, Cas found himself feeling a way he hadn't felt for a really long time about anyone. There had been that guest reporter who'd written an article with him three or so years ago- God, she'd been beautiful. Inside and out. She'd been a charity worker in her spare time, writing articles about peace movements and fundraisers as her actual job. Something of an angel. Nothing had happened between them, of course- her standards were far too high for that- but God, he'd loved her.

And he was beginning to feel the same way he'd felt about her in the first couple days of knowing her about Dean.

And, honestly, it scared him a little bit.

Because if Dean didn't feel the same way- _of course he doesn't, why would he, Dean's as straight as they come_- Castiel was worried he wouldn't know how to move on in life.

He ignored those thoughts, the nagging doubts telling him to turn back before it was too late, and listened to Dean's heartfelt monologue.

"...she left me, of course. Abby did." Dean sighed. "Like I said, Cas. Everyone always leaves me and I don't know why."

"Maybe it's because you're such a dick," Cas suggested hesitantly, trying to make a bit of a joke out of it.

He failed miserably.

Dean made a sound like a choked sob and Cas's heart broke again.

"I-i'm _not_, though," Dean whispered. "I'm really not. People just- people just think I am because- because I drink too much and I'm basically a man-whore and I come on kinda strong but that's not what I am." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "No one ever gives me a chance. Ever. They just see my face and talk to me when I'm drunk- and I usually am- and _assume _things and- Christ, that hurts. It hurts when people do that. And- and-" He couldn't talk for a few seconds and Cas thought he could hear him breathing rapidly as he tried to push down his tears. "And I _hate _it, Cas- I- I- you think I _like _drinking myself into oblivion every night? I used to, yeah, and I guess it's easier than facing what I am, but I hate losing control the way I do. But I can't help it. I can't stop myself. I'm just such a child. And I can't grow up. Shit, man, I've tried everything, you know, had jobs over the years-" he laughed bitterly- "got me nowhere. I can't grow up. I'm like fuckin' Peter Pan, man, stuck in Neverland. Forever. And I can't get out. So I drink until I forget and then I sleep around- ugh, God knows how many diseases I have- and it gives me nothing. I'm still just so _empty _inside. I thought this tour would help me heal, and in some ways it has- not in the ways I expected, and not the sources I expected- but honestly, man, I think I'm too screwed up to ever get completely better. I- I just- wish people would see me for what I really am. I'm _messed up_. I'm not a dick. Not underneath. People tell me I don't have a heart, but they're wrong- I do. It's just been- I don't know- burned out of me or something. Mostly. But the tiny pieces that are left hurt like hell." He swallowed a sob again and continued. "Rehab did nothing for me. I've been there way too many times. Even before I made it big, the place was like a second home. Or a first home. I've never really had a home. I just- God, I'm totally rambling. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. I never know what I'm saying anymore. That's what it feels like, anyway. No one's given me any reason to feel any different. And then I met _you_, and-"

He broke down completely and couldn't talk anymore.

Cas had seen death. He'd seen pain and suffering and had to look the other way and steel himself, knowing he'd never see anything that horrible ever again.

But nothing could have prepared him for lying in the dark and listening to Dean Winchester cry his heart out.

He didn't know what to do.

Every instinct Castiel Novak had in his body and brain was telling him to get up and go to Dean, but the microscopic rational part of him that remained advised him against that.

So he lay, paralyzed with fear of the near future, and stared up at the bunk above him and listened to the pure misery next to him.

Dean cried himself to sleep- that's what it sounded like- and once Dean's breathing had become less ragged, Cas finally found the words.

He would never be able to say them to Dean's face. He would be too scared.

But with Dean practically unconscious, he felt safe. Maybe Dean would hear him in his sleep and, even though he wouldn't be able to remember- hopefully- he would still have a general sense of well-meaning from Cas.

"Dean, I'm sorry," he begins and stops, surprised at how weak his voice is. He swallows and starts again. "I'm sorry I objectified you and judged you. I'm sorry everyone does that. I know now that you're better that the person you seem to be. I am so, so sorry no one gives you a chance anymore. I know that you deserve it. And I promise I'll change for you and become more open-minded. I hope you can forgive me for the completely appalling way I've treated you. I... I'm no better than anyone else. I judged you without even meeting the real you first. And I'm sorry, even though those words mean almost nothing. But please believe me that I regret treating you the way I have. And that changes starting now." He paused and went on after gathering his thoughts. "You're asleep, so you can't hear me, but I just want you to know that you're- ah, don't really know how to say it- you're beautiful, Dean. Inside. Even though you may not think so. I can see it in you and it's a shame you don't let it show more, although I caught a glimpse of that tonight. And- just so you know. It's completely not your fault that everyone leaves you. It's their loss. And believe me, if you showed more people the side of you that I talked to tonight, no one would ever leave your side. So, uh, yeah," he finished lamely and closed his eyes, exhausted and full of trepidation at the same time.

"So you were just gonna let me fall asleep and let me think you hated me for the rest of my life? Nice, dude," he heard a mildly amused voice say from a few feet away from him and jumped.

"D-dean?" Cas said, regretting he'd said anything for the past five minutes.

There was a chuckle. "Beautiful, huh?"

Cas felt himself turn bright red and started to stammer something out, but Dean cut him off.

"I haven't been asleep this whole time, actually. It's been a while since I've slept sober, and it'll take some getting used to again." He sighed. "Sorry for listening in. But I'm guessing it wasn't your aim for me to have no idea whatsoever of what you said?"

Cas cringed. "I- I wanted you to know what I meant, but I wasn't planning for-"

"For me to hear your entire Hallmark card speech, eh?" Cas could hear Dean grin and some of the heaviness lifted from his chest. "Well, uh, thank you, Cas. I'm no good at things like this, but thank you. I would say it means a lot but, like 'sorry,' those words mean nothing. Just trust me when I say that I do." Cas thought Dean was getting a little choked up again, but it could have just been his imagination. "So thank you, Cas. Thank you for believing in me even though I don't really deserve it all that much." Castiel heard Dean roll back over so he was facing away from Cas. "Anyway, good night, dude. I need sleep. Tucson's a big deal tomorrow."

"G'night," Cas said sleepily and pulled the itchy blanket up higher.

And it may have been just the voices in his head getting louder, but a second or so before he drifted into blissful unconsciousness, he thought he heard Dean say quietly, "And for the record, Cas, I think you're beautiful, too."

Probably just the voices, though.


	5. Albuquerque

Turns out Tucson was a big deal because one of Dean's thousands of ex-girlfriends- one of the longer-term ones who had mattered slightly more- had promised to show up many a year ago. Apparently, her and Dean had made a pact back when they were still together to meet up at some bar close to the convention center where Dean had played (that's how they'd met).

Of course, she hadn't showed, and Cas had had to all but hold Dean's hand as he drank himself senseless to hide his hurt feelings.

Hell, Cas actually _had _had to hold Dean's hand as the poor guy grew drunker and more persistent.

Er, not that he had minded that, exactly, but that was another matter entirely.

Dean was clearly trying extremely hard to conceal the fact that Melanie's lack of showing up was destroying him a little on the inside, and Cas respectfully admired this about him. He knew that as soon as Dean cracked a little and allowed his painful flag to fly, all hell would absolutely break loose.

So he had sat quietly by Dean's side in the empty bar, holding his hand and pouring him more of whatever God-awful drink Dean was having.

And once Dean had had enough, he fell sideways on his bar stool and buried his face in Cas's shoulder. "Take me home, Cas, would you?" he had mumbled and Cas felt his voice vibrating through his bones. It was a feeling he could enjoy getting used to, he had realized with a shock.

Castiel had nodded eventually and stood very slowly, allowing Dean to swing an arm around him and helping the other man stand.

It soon had become apparent that Dean could not stand unassisted, so Cas had rolled his eyes fondly as Dean draped himself completely over the now quite disheveled reporter. They had lurched out of the bar and into the smoky Tucson air, barely managing to stumble up the stairs into the bus.

Dean had passed out within a second of his head hitting the pillow- sleep cutting him off in the middle of his "thank you, Cas"- and Cas had fallen asleep relatively quickly, too.

Caring after rock stars was tiring business.

They woke up in Albuquerque, Dean instantly clutching his head and almost screaming in pain.

"Let him drink _as much as he wants_, they said," Cas said and pushed himself up into a sitting position. "He can _hold his liquor_ _well_, they said."

"Oh, shut up and get me some Tylenol," Dean groaned and leaned against the back wall of the bunk for support.

Thinking better of asking for the magic word, Cas swung his legs out from under his blanket and onto the floor, stretching and standing. "Where is it kept, do you know?"

"No, man, I don't know, just get me painkillers," Dean nearly shrieked.

Cas smiled at Dean, meaning in his eyes that even he didn't fully understand. Of course the other man didn't appreciate it, seeing as how he was moaning softly whilst trying to bash his head in against a wall.

Stirring a packet of instant coffee into a cup of boiling water, Cas reflected on the events of last night. God, had Dean really held his hand? Or vice versa, as it were? _He probably doesn't even remember that happened, anyway. Better for him not to know if he doesn't at this point._ Trying not to think about it much more than he already had been- approximately 20 times a second- he finished making the coffee and added no sugar, assuming Dean would like it black.

And even if he didn't, he'd have to suck it up and drink it anyway. It was better for hangovers without anything in it.

"Here. Coffee." Cas slowly, cautiously brought the cup over to Dean, trying hard not to spill. Dean reached out his hands like a beggar and Cas gave him the cup.

Dean inhaled deeply and a heavenly expression spread over his face. "Cas, you sweet, sweet hangover angel." He placed the cup to his lips- _Cas, dammit, stop staring, it's impolite_- and sipped gingerly. A second later, he yelped and took the cup away fast. "Jesus, Cas! No sugar? And this is _way _too hot."

"Make your own hangover coffee, then, princess," Cas grumbled and turned away.

"I'm too weak to. You could have poisoned this and I wouldn't even be able to do anything about it," Dean said, fake piteousness in his voice.

Cas huffed and sat down on his own bunk, reaching under it for his shoes and computer. "If you act like this every morning, I just might have to."

A wordless understanding had been reached between them, now- their way of talking to each other was easy. After their painful exchange in Phoenix, both knew that when they were somewhat mean to each other, it was in the kindest way possible. It was easier for them to converse that way, even though they'd never actually talked about it.

Cas was glad things were the way they were.

Dean complained about the coffee for a few more minutes, but Cas could tell that he was secretly grateful. In some ways, he was indeed quite childish, and curing his own illnesses was one of his many areas of immaturity. If no one had looked after him, Dean probably would have just lived alone in a cardboard box and forgotten to eat and drink and sleep and move and eventually would have died by accident.

"Oh, Cas, what would I do without you?" Dean said- practically reading Castiel's mind- drank the last few drops of his coffee, and extended the empty cup to Cas for more.

Cas smirked and made Dean another cup, pretending to be reluctant. "Die, probably." And, even though he would never admit it to himself, he kind of _really _enjoyed having Dean depend on him. It made him feel wanted in the world for once.

And that enjoyment had _nothing _to do with Dean's leaning on him last night or putting his arm around him _all _the _time _or calling him an angel or-

Nothing. Nothing to do with it.

Because Dean wasn't flirting with him. Absolutely not. Nope. If he seemed like he was, it was wishful thinking. Cas's imagination. Right?

_Right_. _And don't you forget it, Cas._

Cas handed Dean the other cup of coffee but before Dean could take it, Cas snatched it away and poured in seven packets of sugar before Dean could move enough to protest.

"Son of a _bitch_!" Dean said indignantly as Cas, laughing, gave Dean the cup. He stared down at the murky liquid in trepidation and then looked up at Cas with traces of fear in his green eyes. He then sat up a little taller, nodded decisively, and sipped.

And promptly spat coffee everywhere.

"_Shit_, Cas!" he said, still spluttering, as Cas doubled over laughing. "You're gonna kill me with this!"

Cas took a breath, stopped laughing, and handed Dean a napkin. "Feel better?"

"No!" Dean whined. "Now my throat is completely coated in sugar and my tongue is burnt and-"

"I meant your head."

"Oh." Dean considered. "Yeah, I guess that's better."

Castiel sighed. "You're welcome, Dean."

"Thanks, Cas," Dean said absently and examined the napkin in his hand. "The hell is this for?"

Cas raised his eyebrows and made a sweeping gesture to describe the area Dean had spewed coffee over. "Well, _I'm _not cleaning up after you."

Dean groaned and fell back onto his pillow, making care to set his cup down onto the floor of the bus first. "Neither am I."

"Fine," Cas sighed, not in the mood to argue over this. Both participants would lose, he could tell, if he continued insisting. "Do whatever you want to. I'm going outside."

"What, for a smoke? I didn't know you-"

"I don't," Cas interrupted. "You smell like beer and so does the entire bus. It's a bit overpowering, okay? So you can stew here in your own filth, but I'm getting some air."

"Jesus, Cas, you're snippy this morning," Dean said, burying his face in the pillow. "You start your cycle or something?"

Castiel rolled his eyes and stepped outside. It was oddly warm in Albuquerque in spring- and although Cas was used to something like that, what with him living in Texas and all, spending so much time on the west coast lately had changed his expectations of April weather a lot. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, turned it on, and waited for signal. Once it had arrived, he waited patiently as it practically exploded with texts from his senior reporter at the Austin newspaper, who was a big fan of knowing everything that was going on when it was going on. Once the chimes had stopped coming, Cas scrolled through, marking everything as read without actually looking at the hysterical texts. They were all the same, anyway- all caps, no punctuation, horrible spelling. For someone with a Doctorate of Philosophy in English, Balthazar sure was terrible at texting. Cas responded with a short "All is well" text- or something along those lines- and hoped he would be left alone after that.

"Texting your boyfriend?" a voice said, an inch away from his ear. Cas jumped and whipped around.

"Don't do that, Dean," Cas said, voice mildly shrill, as Dean laughed at him. He waited for his breathing to steady and answered Dean's question. "My boss. Actually."

"Balthazar, eh?" Dean said, leaning in closer to look over Cas's shoulder at the phone. "Hmmm. He sounds like a real douchebag."

Cas chuckled. "Kind of is." Trying not to think about the fact that he could feel Dean's stubble scratching his cheek- they were that close, _oh God, his face is touching my face_- Castiel closed the messages application on his phone and sighed. "He's annoying, actually. Likes things being done his way. And the second anyone tries to argue with him, he goes completely insane. Working with him is... exhausting, to say the least."

"Aw, baby, I'm sorry," Dean said, reaching up to ruffle Cas's hair. _He's just being nice. Stop thinking too far into it, Cas. He's just being a good friend. Sympathising. When he calls you "baby" he doesn't mean it. _"You should try being a rock star. You'd be your own boss."

_How easy would it be right now just to turn your head and kiss him like you want to, Cas? It would be so, so easy, wouldn't it._

_But you shouldn't. Because he would push you away and would hate you and your friendship would be ruined._

_Because unlike you, apparently, Dean is straight._

_So don't. Even though you want to more than anything right now._

"What a tender world that would be," Cas said with a bitter smile. Dean dropped his hand to Cas's shoulder, squeezed once, and pulled away. _Stop. Reel in your thoughts, Castiel. He's not interested in you that way. He can't be. _

"You gonna come to the concert tonight?" Dean asked, leaning back against the side of the bus.

"Do I have a choice?" Cas asked, looking up at Dean.

Dean smirked. "Not really. But we're trying out some different fireworks this time, which should be a whole lotta fun."

"That is," Cas interjected, "if nothing goes horribly wrong and doesn't burn down the entire city by accident. Unless that's your idea of fun."

"Cas, you have one sick sense of humour," Dean said, grinning.

"I try."

Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes. "How many concerts do I have left?"

Cas counted. "There was San Francisco, then LA, then Phoenix, then Tucson, and then tonight. So you've played four. Meaning you have 38 left."

"Jesus Christ." Dean closed his eyes. "What's after tonight?"

Cas raised an eyebrow. "Why would you think I have any idea?"

"I'm not asking you, dammit. I'm asking the search engine on your phone." He opened a single green eye. "Hint, hint?"

"It's just _shameful_ that you don't know these things, Dean. You should be _ashamed_ of yourself," Cas said smiling, taking his phone back out.

"Oh, I am, I am," Dean sighed and closed his eye again.

After the page had loaded, Cas read out the list of cities they were visiting; "Albuquerque- tonight- then Denver, Lawrence, Tulsa, Dallas, Austin- oh, cool- New Orleans, Jackson, Memphis, St. Louis-"

"Hold up. Did you say _Lawrence_?" Dean said, detaching himself from the wall and suddenly looking alert.

Cas squinted at the screen. "Lawrence, Kansas, yes."

Dean, eyes huge, looked at Cas. "You're serious."

Cas nodded. "Yeah, I am. Why? What's the big deal about Lawrence?"

A smile began to spread across Dean's face, bigger than any Cas had ever seen on him. It was incredibly genuine and pure. His eyes were sparkling and he looked positively giddy. "I'm goin' home, Cassy. For the first time in years. Jesus, where was I when they decided this? Or was it my call and I was just too drunk to remember? Oh, I gotta tell Sam. I bet he knows, but I'll tell him anyway." He stopped and, eyes bright with something that looked like happy tears, clasped Cas's shoulders. "Thanks for telling me, Cas. This is- this is great. Oh, man. _Oh_, man." He released Cas and started half-running to the other bus where Sam, Ash, and the other techies slept. "Sammy! Hey, Sammy, guess what?" he called, exuberance oozing from every pore, and Cas smiled at his retreating form as a sleepy Sam stuck his head out of a window.

However, Cas was still somewhat unsure as to why this news was making Dean so happy. He Googled Dean for the first time since before the trip started and found the reason in seconds flat:

Dean Winchester. Born on January 24, 1985 (aged 27) in Lawrence, Kansas.

Huh. No matter Dean was so happy- he'd been holed up in his enormous mansion in Florida for so long that he hadn't been home since he left high school.

Cas watched in fond amusement as Dean, practically jumping up and down with excitement, told Sam his news. Sam grinned at his brother's delight, told him he already knew, but congratulated Dean on remembering what he himself had decided.

"Aw, Sammy, stop being such a downer," Dean said, pouting. Although, it was hard to tell if that was his intention, what with his lips' natural voluptuousness.

_Why am I noticing that? What the hell is wrong with me?_

Sam reached down out of the window and ruffled his older brother's hair. "I'm happy you're happy, Dean, and-" he sighed- "to tell the truth, I'm pretty excited to go home, too."

They smiled at each other and Dean, after apologizing for waking Sam, turned and bounced back to Cas.

Dean beamed and, clearly without even thinking about it too much and just going with instinct, threw his arms around Cas.

In shock- but delighted at the same time, somehow- Cas almost forgot how to hug, but remembered in time to hesitantly lift his arms and hug Dean back.

To Cas's dismay, Dean let go a second later, looking slightly awkward. "Uh, sorry, Cas, I just-" He stopped and a smile returned to his face. "Christ, I haven't been this happy in a long time."

A twitch of movement caught Cas's eye, and he looked up to see Sam still leaning out of the window, smirking widely at the two of them. Cas rolled his eyes and looked back at Dean. "It's fine. And very understandable. When was the last time you were there?"

Dean screwed up his eyes and thought. "I visited once in freshman year of college. Dropped out the next year. Just... checked out the old place." He swallowed and his eyes flashed with pain. "Said hi to some folks. And then didn't come back again." Sudden realization hit him and he practically crowed with delight, turning back to Sam, who was still looking out of the window. "Hey, Sammy!"

"What?" came the response.

"My baby'll be there!"

Cas's heart sank and Sam's eyes widened. "Oh, man, I completely forgot about her!"

"Sam!" Dean chastised, nodded, and grinned again, turning briefly back to Cas to clarify- "My car."

"Oh," Cas said and allowed himself a small triumphant smile as the weight lifted from his chest.

"It'll be great, Sammy," Dean said one last time, and Sam waved and vanished back into the bus.

"I think you'll like Lawrence, Cas," Dean said, returning to his side. "It's a nice old-fashioned town. The way life's supposed to be. Simple, you know? Nice. Or, at least, it was, before..." His face darkened and he didn't finish his sentence. But, as was his mercurial custom, he lightened a second later and smiled, wetting his lips with his tongue- _dammit, Cas, stop staring, stop right now_. "And the _pie_, man. Best in four counties. My momma used to- um, anyway. It's really good. I've tried pie in almost every state and it's not as good anywhere else." Dean clapped a hand onto Cas's shoulder that was farther away from him, ran it up Cas's neck, and ended with it ruffling Cas's hair. Cas shivered and didn't say anything, just savouring the sensation- _even though he doesn't mean anything by it, he's just being friendly, he's just happy right now, it means nothing_- while he could. "Yeah, I'll show you around town, introduce you to my old friends. It'll be great." He paused and considered. "On second thought, what old friends?" He chuckled. "I was a complete loser when I lived in Lawrence. Everyone 'cept Sammy hated me. And with good reason, I guess. Should be fun to see them all sucking up to me now that I mean a little something in the world, right?" He smiled at Cas and Cas smiled back.

"I'm looking forward to it, Dean," he said, and meant it.

"Damn better be," Dean said, winked, and returned back into the bus.

The concert that night went extremely well, in part because Dean had kept himself sober. He was also happier, indeed, than Cas had ever seen him. The audience could probably tell this and responded in kind to Dean's exuberance.

And when they left the hall late, late that night, Cas asked Dean why he hadn't drank for this concert.

Dean shrugged. "It wasn't just 'cause of this concert, or finding out about Lawrence. I guess I'm just kinda tired of waking up with a headache, you know?" He looked at Cas, a fond expression on his face. "Not that I don't enjoy your coffee, Cas, but..."

"Well, good," Cas said and returned Dean's look. "I was getting pretty tired of dragging you out of concert halls and into bed myself- Gordon gave up a few concerts ago."

"You callin' me fat, Cas?" Dean said with fake indignance and lightly punched Cas's arm.

Cas laughed quietly. "No, Dean. It's just annoying."

"Annoying, eh?" Dean and Cas exchanged amused glances and didn't say anything else until they reached the bus. They didn't need to.

"So you're done with falling asleep drunk," Cas repeated and Dean nodded. "Good, because you snore when you sleep drunk."

Dean scoffed. "I do _not_."

"You don't when you're _sober_."

"I've never snored in my entire life!" Dean protested and Cas raised his eyebrows.

"No, you're just in denial." Cas looked at Dean. "Would I lie to you about this, Dean?"

"Yes," Dean said firmly. "Yes, you would. And I do _not _snore."

"Next time, I'll make special care to record it," Cas said and yawned.

"Tough luck, then," Dean said, sitting down on his bunk, pulling his shoes off, and smiling. "Because I don't plan to sleep drunk again for a while."

"Admirable," Cas said. "Let me know how that works out for you."

"Why, you plannin' on leavin' soon?" Dean asked, avoiding Cas's eyes.

"Sadly for you, no. You're still stuck with me for a while longer."

"Good," Dean said, smiled, and looked up at Cas.

Cas's heart stopped.

And then started again when Dean hit his knee with a shoe and said, "I still have to get you drunk, remember?"

Cas scoffed. "Oh, good luck with that one."

They talked for a while longer, even after they were both in bed and the bus had started moving on their epic seven-hour journey to Denver. This time, they discussed old video games and cartoons that they'd watched in their childhoods. And books. And movies from the nineties. And various foods.

One word led to another, which led to more trains of thought going astray. They talked for hours, until eventually both fell asleep mid-sentence.

Cas's final thought before he drifted away into a dream filled with frying pans and cannibalistic walnuts was how easy it was to talk to and to be with Dean.

Dean's last thought before he collapsed into dreamless sleep was "thank you, Cas."


	6. Lawrence, part one

Denver had been an odd day. Most of it was driving- a silent drive, more or less. It appeared Dean was by far too excited about the next day to compose more of his song or even talk at all. And the concert was composed mostly of Dean being extremely distracted, even though he still performed well. They went to sleep early, for Dean hadn't drunk a single drop of any substance but water the entire day, and didn't even talk too much before then. Cas understood the reasons behind Dean's distraction but found a minor part of himself longing for the easy conversation again.

But he didn't blame the guy for being happy about going home.

The day after Denver, Castiel woke up at six to find Dean already awake.

"Morning," he said, voice scratchy, and rubbed his eyes. "You're up early."

Dean grinned, eyes slightly crazed. "I've been up for a while, actually. Couldn't sleep. Coffee?"

"Uh, no thanks. I'm getting a caffeine buzz just looking at you." Cas groaned and sat up. "Today the day or something?"

Dean nodded, face suddenly serious. "I'm actually kinda worried I'm over-hyping myself."

"You think you're gonna be let down."

"Kinda."

Cas looked at Dean solemnly. "I'll make sure you're not."

Dean scoffed. "Have fun."

Cas threw his blanket back and swung his feet out and onto the floor. "When do we arrive?"

Dean glanced at Cas's wrist, head tilted sideways. "Um... two hours, by your watch." He narrowed his eyes. "Hey, does your iThing have any good rock on it?"

Slightly thrown by the question, Cas considered. "I have some Zeppelin, I think."

"Perfect," Dean said and smiled dangerously.

Two hours later, the tour bus rolled into Lawrence, Kansas, windows all either open or completely down, "Black Dog" by Led Zeppelin blasting at absolutely full volume. Dean was leaning out of the window and beaming like a five-year-old who had just been granted free lifetime access to a candy store as the wind whipped his short hair around.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Cas shouted over the screeching guitars, "but I think you're happy to be home."

Dean whooped in response and waved to some confused passerby on the street.

"Those were our old neighbors, I think!" he said, turning back to Cas. "I would always hit baseballs into their windows by accident! Dad eventually had to lock up my bat so I'd stop." He grinned with an open mouth and stuck his head out of the window again.

Cas smiled and shook his head. Dean was adorable.

_Adorable? Seriously? That's the only adjective you can find to describe this force of nature in front of you? God, Cas, and you claim to be a writer._

This continued for a few minutes until the bus squealed to a stop and the music was shut off abruptly. Dean complained for a few seconds, then stopped as an almost reverent expression crossed his face. He reached up to get a worn leather jacket Cas hadn't seen before from the top bunk and slipped it on, instinctively popping the collar. "I'm gonna go," he said vacantly. "Me and a very special someone have got quite a lot of catching up to do."

He practically waltzed out of the bus- Cas following a couple steps behind, filled with a sick kind of curiosity at seeing Dean reunite with an old flame- and out onto the street, where he was practically mobbed by men and women alike, most seeming to be around Dean's age. Gordon swooped out of nowhere and crossed his arms protectively as he stood next to Dean.

"Ladies, gentlemen, _please_!" Dean said and made an impatient sweeping motion with his hands. "I have some _extremely _important business to attend to at the moment. We can interact all we want at tonight's concert. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

The crowd parted like the waters of the Nile and Dean gestured for Cas to follow him. "Gordon, you can stay. It's okay, I'll be safe with Sammy and Cas," he said quickly before he was interrupted. Gordon considered for a second and then grudgingly consented, probably knowing how bad an idea it was to argue with Dean when he was this set on something.

"Did you find them?" Dean called to Sam, who was approaching with a smile on his face almost as big as Dean's.

Sam reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a jangling silver keychain, tossing it to Dean, who caught it with an accuracy that suggested this having been done hundreds of times. "Groovy," Dean said and stared at the keys as though he was reuniting with an old friend.

Sam looked at Cas, who had a slightly confused expression on his face, and smirked. "Sorry for what you're about to see."

Cas raised an eyebrow and was about to reply when he heard a strangled screech from Dean. He looked over only to find Dean moving towards an endlessly long, sleek black car as though through water.

"Oh, _baby_," Dean whispered and ran the last few feet.

Cas had never seen anyone hug a car before.

There was a first time for everything, he supposed, and that time was now.

Joining Dean at the side of the car, Cas watched in mild amusement as Dean's shaking hands fumbled with the keys. Eventually, he got them into the lock and he looked at Cas with anticipation in his shining green eyes before turning the key and closing them. "Oh, baby, it's been way too long." He pulled open the door and slid in, calling, "Cas, get in back. Sam- ah, you know what to do."

Sam opened the passenger door in front and sat, making special care not to hit his head on the low doorframe. Cas sat in the middle of the backseat and felt extremely privileged to be allowed to witness such a private moment.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, adjusting the rearview mirror so he was making eye contact with Cas through it, "would you look under Sam's seat and see if there's a big wooden box there?"

Cas bent down and looked. There was indeed a box. He pulled it out and handed it to Dean.

Dean's eyes widened and he very carefully took the box. "I could honestly kiss this right now. But it would probably taste-" he blew on it, and a huge cloud of dust erupted from the top- "horrific." He looked from Cas to Sam, grinned, and opened the box. Inside were a bunch of cassette tapes with handwritten titles. He flipped through all of them, making small sounds of admiration, eventually selected one, then handed the box to Sam.

"Oh, not _this _again," Sam said, craning his neck to look at what Dean had chosen. "I thought you were over that phase. Metallica? Seriously?"

Dean opened the cassette, inserted it into the car, and tossed the empty case at Sam. "House rules, Sammy; driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole." He started the car, cranked the volume up, and pulled away from the car, rolling the window down as he did.

As one song faded into the next, Dean patted the dashboard affectionately. "Just listen to her purr."

Cas rolled his eyes. "Look, if you want to get a room, Sam and I can go somewhere else for a few hours whilst you indulge yourself."

Dean looked up at the rearview mirror and made eye contact again with Cas, who was shocked to see small nostalgic tears gathering in Dean's eyes. "Just let me have my fun, okay? It's been too long. And it'll probably be too long again after this."

Cas nodded. "Sure thing." He glanced out of the window. "You said something about pie?"

Dean's hands jolted and the car screeched to the curb, blocking out Sam's annoyed words of protest. "_Hell _yeah, I did. Everyone get out. Thanks for reminding me, Cas."

Sam did first, Cas taking a few seconds with unbuckling the seatbelt- it was an oddly archaic and twisted system, and he had gotten slightly confused.

"It's a short walk, Sammy, stop complaining," Dean said, cutting Sam off in the middle of a word. But as Sam ducked his head away from Dean's hand coming up, aiming to smack his younger brother, Cas saw a massive smile on his face, too. Apparently, even though he wasn't quite as loud about it as Dean, Sam was also happy to be home.

There was a slight swagger in Dean's walk- a sort of attractive bowleggedness- that hadn't been there before, Cas noticed. Maybe it was wearing his old jacket, driving his old car, walking his old streets. Whatever it was, the effect on him was completely tangible.

Cas cleared his throat. "Didn't get a chance to say it before, Dean, but your car is _gorgeous_."

Sam shot Cas a grateful look as Dean whirled around and clasped Cas's shoulders. "_Finally_, someone who appreciates her beauty!" He let go and craned his neck to look back at the car. "She's wonderful, ain't she. '67 Impala, in case you were wondering. She was my dad's. I had to fix her up myself with my own hands after I crashed senior year. Hell, she's as much a part of this family as Sam is." He smirked at his brother, and kept walking forward.

Once they had reached the cafe where Dean had promised "the best pie _ever_, dude" was made, they ordered two: cherry and apple ("Tellin' you, man. Gotta stick to the classics. In music and in food.").

Cas sat next to Sam, with Dean alone across from them in the booth. He was looking out of the window, a permanent grin almost tattooed on his face. Suddenly, a mildly good-looking brunette appeared in front of their booth, disbelief in her eyes. "Dean?" she asked, voice breathy.

He looked up at her sharply, then relaxed when he saw who it was. A mildly disrespectful look drifted into his eyes, and he said, "Jenny, right?"

"Julie." She smiled widely and pulled a notebook out of her pocket. "Would you sign this for me?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Nope," he said slowly and drew the word out, smiling slightly unkindly.

"Wh-why not?" she asked, sounding hurt.

"Because you turned me down when I asked you to go to the spring fling with me and went with Brady Rodriguez instead." He looked at Cas with a can-you-believe-this-chick expression on his face. "And then he cheated on you with Carly Fredricksen and you kept on going out with him anyway."

She laughed nervously. "Dean, that was _years _ago! Now, I-"

"You'd go out with me now that I'm not a scrawny loser?" He smiled. "Cute. Nice try. Unfortunately for you, _Jenny_, I'm a rock star now, as I'm sure you've guessed, and I'm assuming that's why you're suddenly interested. And I get little girls like you askin' me out all over the place, thinkin' I'll say yes 'cause I'm too dumb to know any better and 'cause they just wanna get their fifteen minutes of fame or whatever for dating me. But I _do _know better. So nice try. I'm not going to let you use me." He paused. "Also, you were a total _bitch _in high school to me. If I barely wanted you then, I sure as _hell _don't want you now. So, uh, no thanks."

Julie's lower lip trembled and she fled.

Cas stared at Dean, somewhat afraid of what he just saw. "You... have a lot of anger. Have you ever considered therapy for removing your deep-seated aggression?"

Dean smiled at Cas, but unlike his looks at Julie, this one was genuine and his eyes crinkled at the corners in the way that Cas liked. "What? Stop judging me, Cas. She deserved it."

Sam looked amused. "She kinda did. But only kinda."

"What, Sammy, you got the hots for Julie Seymour now? _Man_, you got low standards."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Cas looked from Dean to Sam, feeling that he was observing a sacred Winchester family ritual.

Dean sighed and leaned back. "To say that it's good to be home would be-"

But then the pie arrived and no one could really talk for a few minutes.

"You weren't kidding about the pie being-" Cas began, mouth full of what was undoubtedly the best thing he'd ever tasted.

"Less talking, more pie, Cas," Dean growled around a mouthful of caramelized apples.

Once they had all but licked their plates clean, the boys all rose and left, after Dean dropped a fifty into the tip jar with a brilliant smile for the cook.

"Where to now?" Cas asked after they'd all gotten back into the Impala and pulled away from the curb.

"Let's go get flowers," Dean answered and nodded decisively after exchanging looks with Sam.

Deciding against questioning after seeing how serious Dean's green eyes- looking more green than ever today- were, Cas just leaned back and looked out at Lawrence's white picket fenced houses and mom-and-pop stores. He tried and failed to picture Dean growing up here- he kept imagining a miniaturized version of the current Dean and it wasn't working out so well.

After they'd bought a bouquet each of white and pink tulips- Dean greeting the crotchety middle-aged woman working at the register without much warmth- they got back into the car and drove off, eventually arriving at a small stone church.

"What are we-" Cas started to ask, but Dean cut him off along with the music.

"Cas, could you wait in the car, please?"

His voice was extremely serious and Cas nodded, still slightly confused.

And then it hit him- the Winchester boys were going to their parents' graves.

Dean and Sam got out of the car, slamming the doors behind them in identical motions. Dean leaned down and stuck his head through Cas's window. "We'll be right back, okay? Don't go anywhere."

"I won't."

"Good." Dean smiled crookedly and left, holding the white bouquet as Sam carried the pink. ("Why do _I _have to carry the pink ones?" "Because you're a total girl, Sammy. Now shut up.")

And even though he felt like he was intruding, Cas couldn't help but watch the scene that unfolded in front of him.

They walked up to the graves slowly, stopping a few feet away and standing there for a few minutes. Dean lay the white ones on what looked to be John Winchester's grave, whereas Sam put the pink ones on the one directly next to it- Mary Winchester's. As both rose back to their feet, Cas saw Sam wipe angrily at his eyes and Dean place a hand softly on his brother's shoulder. And they stood there, united in their misery, for a few seconds, until Dean twitched and turned away, returning to the car.

Cas quickly leaned back against the seat to make it look like he hadn't been watching. Dean got into the car and flashed Cas a quick smile to let him know that he was okay, even though his eyes were rimmed with red from holding back his tears. Cas admired his bravery- Dean did have to set an example for his younger brother, had to be the strong one in every situation. Cas cautiously placed a hand on Dean's shoulder to let him know that he was there, supporting him, and Dean blinked slowly and looked back at Cas.

"You okay?" Cas asked softly, knowing Dean wasn't.

"Nah," Dean said and sighed. "But thanks, Cas. No one ever really asks me that anymore." They looked at each other for a few seconds, a small smile darting around Dean's mouth and concern in Cas's eyes, until Sam got back into the car- he'd apparently stayed back at the graves for a couple more minutes. His lower lip was still trembling, and he hastily wiped away a few last tears before looking at Dean and asking, "So where to now?"

Dean spun the wheel around as they pulled out of the church parking lot and back into the street. "Let's just drive around and see who we can find."

"Seeking revenge, eh?" Cas asked, smiling reproachfully.

"Totally."

The first person they saw happened to be a short white-haired old woman hobbling down the street with a cane. She gave a bit of a start at seeing the Impala gliding down the street and began to wave her flower-patterned purse at them. Dean shrugged and pulled over, turning the music down.

"The Winchester boys!" she said warmly and leaned down, smiling. "Dean and Sam." She appeared not to notice Cas was there, which he was more or less okay with. "It's been a while since I've seen you around here." She reached a hand into the car and pinched Dean's cheek hard, and Dean shot a pained look at Cas in the rearview mirror. Cas hid his smile and watched on. "And _Sam_. My, you've grown! Why, you couldn't have been much taller than- oh, than this car last time I saw you!"

"How are you doing, Mrs. Collins?" Sam asked, smiling in a way that instantly made Cas think of a smarmy middle-schooler, which is probably what Sam was feeling like.

"Oh, I'm just fine, boys. How have you been?"

"Delightful," Dean said dryly, rubbing his cheek once she had let go.

"Why were you gone so long?" she asked.

Dean shrugged. "Felt I needed to leave town after- you know-"

"Yes, after that _horrible _tragedy. Poor John and Mary. What a way to go," the woman said, shaking her head sadly. Dean and Sam both averted their eyes and didn't say anything. "But it's good to have you back, boys. Are you staying long?"

"No, Mrs. Collins," Sam said, raising his eyebrows regretfully. "Just for the one night."

"Oh, that's a shame," she said. "Next time you're in town, stop by and I can make you some of my cheesecake."

"Sounds great," Dean said, smiling widely but not particularly sincerely.

"Well, it was _lovely _to see you boys again," the woman said and straightened slowly. "But I'm afraid I have to go pick my cat Snuffles up from the vet. He has a bit of a cold, poor thing. G'bye!"

"Take care, Mrs. Collins!" Dean said, waving after her as he pulled the car away from the curb. He started to laugh quietly, eventually saying, "Oh, I have absolutely no idea who that was."

Sam huffed. "She was the 8th grade math teacher at school, Dean."

"Then it makes a whole lot of sense why I don't remember her," Dean said with a grin, "because I was pretty much always asleep in that class." He winked at Cas in the mirror.

"Okay, you done with your little sight-seeing tour?" Sam asked, and Dean shot him a hostile look. "I promised Ash I'd be back at the bus at-"

"You can go see your _boyfriend _later, Sam. But right now, we're spending quality time together as a _family_. Right, Cas?"

Cas jumped. "Uh, sure, Dean." _What, am I family now?_

"Right." Dean glanced in the left rearview mirror and flicked on a turn signal. "We can drive by the school next, if you want, Sammy. Since that obviously is where your home away from home was. Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean turned into a small side-street and suddenly inhaled sharply. Cas frowned and glanced up at the mirror, finding Dean's eyes wide and full of an emotion he couldn't quite understand. Sam looked uneasy, too, and Cas had just began to wonder why when Dean slowed down- but didn't stop- in front of a two-story yellowish house with white trimming and a few trees surrounding it. A terrible silence filled the car- not the kind that just comes with a lack of sound- one that was thick and heavy.

"Something wrong?" Cas asked cautiously.

"It's nothing," Dean and Sam said at the same time and Dean stepped on the gas again, driving away as quickly as he could from the yellow house.

"They rebuilt it pretty well," Sam said softly under the music.

"Yeah," Dean said and flipped a right. "Even grew the trees back."

"Does anyone live there now, do you know?"

"I sure as hell hope not. Too many memories in there for anyone to ever have a chance at happiness in that place." Dean looked out of the window. "But if they do, well... I hope they at least know what happened."

Sam nodded. "Would you want to?"

Dean turned and looked at his brother. "No, probably not," he said after considering for a second. His eyes darted up to meet Cas's in the mirror and the expression in them said "don't ask now, I'll tell you later."

Cas nodded and looked away.

"...and here it is!" Dean said, voice suddenly loud and dramatic, and turned the music off completely. "If Sam Winchester were ever to be sexually attracted to a place, this would be it."

"Shut up," Sam said, laughing. "Cas, this is where Dean and I went to school. Elementary and middle. And _boy_, did Dean get beat up a lot."

"I did _not_," Dean protested and Sam laughed again.

"You totally did."

"Did not."

"Did."

"Did _not_!"

"Girls, girls, please, you're both pretty," Cas interrupted and rolled his eyes at Dean in the mirror.

"I'm prettier than Sam is," Dean proclaimed loudly in a high-pitched feminine voice.

"I'm prettier than Dean is," Sam retorted in the same voice.

"Actually, _I'm _the prettiest," Cas said, completely dead-pan.

Dean exploded laughing and Sam joined in a second later, Cas giving in pretty soon also. That went on for a few minutes, and then Dean, wiping good-natured tears from his eyes, took a deep breath and stopped slowly.

"Oh, it's been years since I laughed that hard. Thank you, Cas."

Cas nodded, eyes smiling at Dean in the mirror.

Dean pulled away from where he'd been parked in front of the school and into a street running directly parallel. He slowed slightly in front of a small one-story blue house and pointed. "Now _that, _gentlemen- that is the house where I lost my virginity."

Sam and Cas complained loudly that Dean was giving them too much information, Cas mostly to hide his mix of jealousy and curiosity.

"What?" Dean said defensively. "Just pointing out a fun landmark." His eyes grew distant. "Oh, man. Lisa Miller. Boy, could that girl-"

"Moving on," Sam interrupted with a somewhat strained smile. Dean coughed awkwardly and kept driving.

"Uh, sorry for taking your extremely hot much older fake girlfriend from you and using her for her body and then ignoring her for the rest of the year and breaking her heart?" Dean said hopefully.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Apology, twelve years late, accepted."

"Great," Dean said and smiled at Cas in the mirror, who avoided his gaze. "You were way too young to date her, anyway."

"No, I wasn't," Sam retorted.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Cas, is _eleven _too young to date a fifteen-year-old?"

Cas raised his eyebrows at Sam. "Yes, it's too young. By a creepily long shot. Sam, there is something extremely wrong with you."

"_Exactly_!" Dean said, smacking the steering wheel in agreement. "See, Sam? I'm not the only one that thinks that."

Sam huffed. "I wasn't eleven, was I? And it's not like she was even properly my girlfriend."

"Exactly. And you were eleven," Dean confirmed gravely. "I felt it was my duty to take you off that fine woman's hands. I could sense that she was tired of babysitting."

Sam ignored him. "And she was not fifteen."

"_I _was fifteen," Dean said. "She couldn't have _not _been fifteen. She was in my grade, right?"

"Whatever."

A few minutes of aimless driving later, Sam started complaining more about having to meet Ash back at the busses. Dean, eventually getting sick of having to listen, drove them back slowly, regretfully, savouring every inch of pavement and garden lining the streets.

"Sorry we didn't find anyone else for you to verbally abuse," Sam said, smirked, and got out of the car.

Dean shrugged. "They'll all be at the concert tonight, probably begging to go backstage because of their 'personal connection' to me. And I'll laugh in their faces and send them out onto the streets."

"You do that," Sam said, patted the Impala one last time, and trotted off to the tech bus.

Dean sighed and turned the engine off. "Well, that was fun while it lasted. Sorry Sammy was being such a little bitch- although, to be fair, I don't know what else I was expecting."

Cas shook his head and smiled. "It's fine. Thank you for letting me come along."

"Oh, I wouldn't have dreamt of going without you." Cas wished to say something fitting in response, but could think of nothing sufficient, so he appreciated Dean's kindness quietly. They sat in silence for a few more seconds, and then Dean pulled the keys out of the ignition. "So I think I have a few things to tell you. Or explain. Or whatever. Bus?"

Cas frowned, confused. "Sure."

They got out of the car and Dean looked down at it with intense love in his eyes- _stop it, Cas, he'll never look at _you _like that, stop hoping for it, it'll never, ever happen_- and stroked the top once before closing the door behind him.

"Once the tour ends, I'll come back here and get you, baby, and then I won't let them separate us again," he promised the car tenderly and promptly turned away. "Now let's go before I change my mind."

Cas followed Dean onto the bus, and Dean sat on the leather couch-thing in the front room, Cas soon sitting down a few feet away from him, concern in his eyes.

And Dean took a deep breath, steadied himself, glanced once at Cas, and began to talk.


	7. Lawrence, part two

"I was seventeen. Sammy was thirteen. Mom and Dad had had the great idea to send us off to some sort of outdoorsy camp thing out by a lake for the summer as a bonding activity. I- can't really remember what we did there. I think there was kayaking. We learned how to tie knots, maybe. And the last morning of camp, at breakfast, one of the camp techies got a phone call in the main office. He came back, lookin' real serious, and whispered something in the camp leader's ear. So the main guys left to go talk on the phone, so the kids there all had a bit of a food fight or something. And then..." Dean swallowed and kept his eyes firmly planted on the ground. "They came back. And pulled Sam and me from the table and took us out behind the mess hall and..." He took a deep breath. "They told us our parents were dead." Cas opened his mouth to say something, to find a way to express his commiseration for Dean, but it was like Dean couldn't stop talking; there was pain on his face, but the words just spilled out like a river breaking free from its dam. Cas got the sense that Dean had never really talked about this before, and honestly couldn't blame him. "They told us there had been a fire." His voice was steady as he continued, no matter how much each word hurt him. "Apparently, Mom had been- had been baking a pie for us. For when we got back. And she'd fallen asleep in front of the TV upstairs with Dad and forgotten to turn the oven off first. And somehow, in a freak, one-in-a-million accident, something went wrong. And our house was made almost completely of wood. They said it hadn't even taken twenty minutes for the whole thing to burn down. The stairs had collapsed before Mom and Dad had woken up, they said. They'd never even really had a chance to get out."

"Dean-"

"There was barely enough of them left to bury," Dean went on, voice slightly louder, eyes still glued to the floor. "That's what the firemen told us when we got back home, anyway. They were practically cremated. But we didn't finish that. They told us once when we were kids as a joke that they wanted to be buried together. And that's exactly what we did. Didn't invite anyone to the funeral. Didn't even have a preacher there. It was just us and our dead parents in the ground. And the gravedigger. Sammy cried for days. I didn't cry until I was sure he couldn't hear me. Someone had to be the strong one, you know?" Dean took a deep, shaky breath and went on. "So after that, we moved in with this guy who'd been a close friend of our family's. Bobby. He was practically our father after. I would have shown you where he lived, but he moved away to Montana a few years ago and the house got knocked down and replaced with a pharmacy. And then I went to college for a year and Sam stayed in high school- I visited every weekend, though, 'cause I was going to the community college pretty close to there- and got perfect grades. And no one really bullied us after that. Guess they understood we'd been through enough. Girls did still turn us down for dates, though." Dean smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "And the house we saw today- you know, the yellow one, with the trees- that's where we used to live. That was home. Well, they rebuilt it, of course. Barely anything was left after the fire. But that's what it looked like before, too. They did a pretty good job with it. Even replanted trees, 'cause those burnt down in the fire also. But no part of that house remembers Sam or me anymore. It's all rebuilt. And I was just wonderin' if anyone lives there now. I wonder if they know about what happened to us. Not so that they'd be afraid of it being haunted or whatever. Just so that they knew the full story. Whoever they are, I hope they end up being happier than we were." Dean slowly looked up at Cas for the first time since he'd began his story. "And now you know everything." And his lower lip trembled once and a single tear broke free of Dean's shimmering eyes and began its painful trek down his cheek.

And without even thinking about it, Cas leaned forward, placed his hand gently on the side of Dean's face, and rubbed the tear away softly with his thumb, trying to communicate everything he was feeling with his eyes.

With a bleating sound like a whimper, Dean launched himself forward and buried his face in Cas's shoulder, clamping onto it with both arms. And Cas could almost feel Dean's heart finally either opening up of its own accord or simply breaking as Cas lifted an arm and wrapped it tightly around Dean's shaking form, soon doing the same with his other arm.

"G-god, I miss them," Dean sobbed into Cas's shirt, voice muffled and shuddering. "I miss them so much, Cas. I miss coming home to Mom making me a grilled cheese and singing me to sleep if I was having nightmares. I miss my dad making me rake the leaves out front and Sammy throwing acorns at me from his treehouse. I miss not being homeless and an orphan. I miss- I-"

Cas held Dean tighter as Dean full-on broke down and sobbed without restraints. Cas guessed that Dean had never had anyone to confide to and that all of these tears had been collecting inside him over the many years that had passed since he'd lost his family.

Dean cried for a few minutes as Cas held him, one hand in his hair, one hand wrapped around his back and shoulders. There was nothing he could say, Cas knew, that would do anything to change how Dean felt. Just being there was probably the most he could do, even though he wished with every fibre of his being there was something else. But he knew there wasn't. And he hated being that helpless, because hearing and feeling Dean cry was probably the worst thing he would ever experience.

Dean's crying lessened slightly and he hiccuped. He then laughed into Cas's shoulder, breathing still broken by occasional sobs, even though at this point they were more reflexive than teary. "I-if you t-tell anyone about th-this, Ca-as, I-i'll kill y-you," Dean said and Cas could feel him smiling. Cas ruffled Dean's hair lightly with the hand that was in it and said, "Don't worry, Dean."

Cas held him until his breathing steadied completely and he was emotionally strong enough to detach himself from Cas and sit up. He hiccuped once more and sat still. Then, he sniffed to clear his nose and stood. "I could use a drink."

"Surprise," Cas said. "You sure that's the best idea?"

"It's _always _the best idea in my book." Dean opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer and then a second, offering it, as usual, to Cas. "Want?"

Cas rolled his eyes. "For the thousandth time, _no_."

Dean shook his head in disbelief and replaced the second bottle. "Suit yourself, weirdo." He popped the top and drank, and, after a small sound of appreciation at the quality of the beer, sat back down next to Cas. Dean looked gingerly at Cas's shoulder and, upon seeing how wet and wrinkled the fabric was, winced apologetically. "Look, sorry I-"

"Don't mention it," Cas said firmly. "Shirts can be washed. Feelings cannot."

Dean raised an eyebrow and there was a pause before he burst out laughing. "_What?_" he spluttered. "_Feelings can't be washed_? Is that _seriously _what you just said, Cas?"

"Look, Dean, I'm just-"

"A writer, huh? Right," Dean said, eyes twinkling, and drank again. "Seems real legit, Cas. _Feelings can't be washed_."

"Okay, that's enough," Cas said, failing to keep the smile off his face. "I know it wasn't the most perfect of metaphors, but..."

Dean looked at him as one would look at the slightly stupid family dog everyone is fond of even though it's not very bright at all, and drank. "Anyway, thanks for letting me cry all over you," he said levelly and avoided Cas's eye.

"Anytime," Cas said warmly.

"Hopefully not," Dean said, looking at Cas with eyebrows raised and eyes amused.

"Well, no, but-" Cas waved a frustrated hand in the air. "You know what I mean."

Dean downed the rest of the bottle in one gulp, made a face, and looked at the clock on the wall of the bus. "Pretty sure we've changed time zones here. But whatever time it actually is, I can sense that I'm sound checking soon. Wanna come?"

Cas shrugged. "Sure. Don't have anything better to do, right?" He stood and grabbed his trench coat from the back of the leather chair where he'd flung it upon entry of the bus. Dean, too, stood and slid on his worn jacket.

"Oh, and Cas?"

Cas turned around from his spot right at the front of the bus as he was about to leave. Dean was looking at him with a dash of fear in his green eyes.

"Don't tell Sam. About- about what I said. Okay? I don't want him to think-"

"I won't, Dean," Cas said and nodded.

"Cool," Dean said, relief on his face at confirming that, and followed Cas out of the bus.

At the soundcheck, Dean would stop every few minutes to go backstage himself to refill his water bottle- with actual water this time. And although Cas may have been reading a bit far into it- _of course he was, it couldn't have meant more, because Dean's not interested that way in him, why would he ever be_- it often seemed like Dean was just using that as an excuse to talk to Cas. So they talked, and when Dean was done quenching his thirst for both conversation and water, he would return to the stage and proceed with his testing of the mics and guitars and Cas would continue writing.

When the concert was about to begin, Dean stood backstage next to Cas, a tranquil expression in his eyes. "Here you go, Cas. Here's the concert that'll make your article."

Cas smiled and looked away from Dean. "Let's hope so."

Dean patted Cas on the back, grinned, and strode out onto the stage as soon as the lights boomed off in the stadium.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Lawrence," Dean began in the silence and the blackness, "my name is Dean Winchester. And tonight... I'm coming home." The lights exploded on, music joining in instantly, and the crowd went- no matter how cliche it sounded- wild.

And for the first time since meeting Dean, Cas felt uniquely privileged at being allowed to come along with Dean on this journey of his, to be a part of Dean's inner circle, to be trusted with Dean's innermost feelings. There were thousands of people out there who would never hear Dean say a single word to them, and Cas, of all of them, got to sleep a few feet away from Dean each night.

"Now this next song," Dean said, panting slightly after finishing up the first, "isn't really on the program for tonight. But I dedicate it to some people backstage and some people trying to get there." He nodded to the band and the opening chords to "Poppy" rang out.

And it may have been Cas's imagination, but he thought he saw Dean turn his head to the left slightly and wink at Cas from the stage.

Once Dean had gotten to the triumphant close of the song, he grinned at the audience and asked, "So how many of you all are actually from Lawrence?"

Cheers filled the stadium as the residents of Lawrence clamoured for attention.

"And how many of you actually knew me when I lived here?"

There were cheers, but they were spread out and quiet.

Dean pointed into the audience. "There's a hand up there. Let's see who it is."

A nearby cameraman panned and zoomed in on the girl in question, who was jumping up and down uncontrollably in delight.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't sweet Sandy Richards," Dean said and waved at the girl. "Good to see you, Sandy."

A microphone was jabbed under the girl's mouth and she said, blushing deeply, "Hi, Dean. It's good to see you, too."

"Mmm, I'll bet," Dean said and thought for a second. "Hey, remember that one time when you were wearing that killer blue dress in school? I think it was sophomore year. And I told you you looked nice and your boyfriend Nick Harris slammed me into a gym twice a day for the rest of the year for that. You two still together? You all made a lovely couple."

Poor Sandy's eyes widened and she attempted to stammer out a no and an apology as the entire concert hall rose to its feet in indignation. Dean waved a good-natured hand and said, "Oh, it's all water under the bridge between us now, Sandy. Enjoy the concert."

The girl blushed a deeper red than before and stared away from the camera, mortified. Dean chuckled and the cameraman returned to his previous spot.

"So anyway, that's quite enough chit-chat and public humiliation, don't you think? Let's press on in our intergalactic tour, shall we?" The hall responded with enthusiasm and Dean cued the band to start the next song.

Cas shook his head incredulously and decided against making a note of this for his article.

The concert ended a couple hours later, and Dean looked happier than he had ever looked after a concert once it was done. "Come on, let's get out of here before the kids start breaking down the doors," he said, grabbed Cas by the shoulders, and pushed him along in front of him.

"O-okay," Cas said, barely managing to snatch his laptop and charger up in time.

Once they had darted into the bus- it's true, fans really were chasing after them- Dean started to laugh, grabbed a beer out of the fridge, and collapsed onto the couch in the front room, placing his feet up on the table in the center. "Well, that was fun."

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself," Cas remarked after pulling a bottle of water out of the fridge and sitting down across from Dean.

"Oh, I sure was," Dean said and smiled at the ceiling. "A lot more than I thought I would. There's just something about being home, I guess."

They talked late into the night, Dean only pausing the conversation to press up against the window as the bus pulled out of Lawrence too see his town one last time before saying goodbye for another while. This time, they told each other about their childhoods in hushed voices, Cas letting Dean talk slightly more as he told Cas about Lawrence. They exchanged arm-breaking stories, which led to a discussion and competition as to who had the most gruesome injury. Dean ended up winning, explaining that the scar running through his left eyebrow was the result of a lawnmower malfunction when Dean had been mowing the lawn at the age of 14- the blades had first gotten stuck, then exploded outwards when Dean had attempted to investigate. Cas had nothing comparable to offer, seeing as how the worst injury he'd ever sustained- besides breaking his arm falling out of a tree- was nicking his thumb pretty deeply whilst chopping lettuce for a salad. They somehow moved on to discussing their favourite violent films, disagreeing rather severely on some but finding they had a lot of common ground when it came to B-grade action.

They talked until both fell asleep, still sitting in the front of the bus, fully clothed.

A few hours later, Cas was pulled reluctantly above the warm ocean of dreamless sleep by a loud sniffling sound. He opened his eyes a crack only to find Dean twitching slightly in his sleep- it looked like he was having a nightmare; sweat collecting on his brow, closed eyes darting from side to side.

Cas's heart went out to him, and, without even thinking about it, so did his body. He rose to his feet and stumbled over to where Dean was sitting and gently sat by his side. "Shhh," he soothed and placed a reassuring arm around Dean's shaking shoulders- he was now crying slightly in his sleep. "You're safe. You're okay. Shhh."

Dean's eyes slid open, full of panic. His eyes darted up to look at Cas, and his breathing began to steady. He closed his eyes again and slid to his left a little, closer in to Cas. To his surprise, Cas discovered that he and Dean fit together like that almost like puzzle pieces.

Dean snuggled in a little more, made a sleepy sound, and settled. Cas tilted his head so it was resting atop Dean's and drifted to sleep, too, soon after, lulled by the sound of Dean's breathing.

Dean woke up for some reason a second or two after Cas fell asleep, and smiled sleepily at seeing where he was. He mumbled "Thank you, Cas"- or something that sounded vaguely like that, for it was hard to enunciate when one was half-asleep- and drifted off again.


	8. Dallas

"Well, that was a day of my life I'll never get back," Dean groaned, stumbling back onto the bus, which set off on the drive to Dallas a minute later. "What a weird city."

"Weird good or weird bad?" Cas asked, sitting on the front couch.

Dean wrinkled his nose and sat around the bend from Cas, pulling his shoes off. "Bad. Definitely."

Cas shrugged. "Yeah, going to have to agree with you there."

"I mean, there was just..." Dean made a vague gesture with his hands. "Nothing."

"Here's hoping I never get assigned to a story in Tulsa anytime soon, right?" Cas asked and stretched. "Also, the backstage was _really _cramped and uncomfortable. There was, like, no room for anything."

"Aw. Sorry, babe." Dean spun around and threw his legs up onto the couch so his feet were resting in Cas's lap. Cas blinked but didn't really react beyond that, afraid that if he did, too many emotions would show in his face. "I've been meaning to ask, Cas. What religion are you? If any."

Cas raised his eyebrows. "Um, that's random." He considered for a second. "It's... complicated. I was..." He sighed. "I was raised in a very traditional, strict Catholic family. Like, hard-core. No birth control, no abortion, no homosexuality, no premarital sex, whatever. The full deal. But I never really believed in any of that, especially after my 15th sibling was born." Dean inhaled sharply and Cas went on. "Then, when I went to high school, I got more of a glimpse of the real world. Oh, don't know if I mentioned- I was home-schooled up until that point. Texas, right? Stop judging me silently over there." Cas thought for another second or two. "So I saw a lot more of reality in high school, and started completely not believing in any of the rules of life my family had taught me. I mean, I was still religious and all, but I didn't really care about if a girl took a pill before sex to keep from getting pregnant or if a guy wanted to be with another guy. And then I went to college and everything basically went to hell in my life. I was surrounded by very liberal atheist types and just got really confused about everything and..." He shrugged. "Now, though? I still believe that everyone can be whatever they want to be and do whatever they want to do. That's not changing, ever. But I guess I qualify as agnostic. I believed pretty hard in a God for a while, and then..." Cas sighed again. "I got assigned to go to the 9/11 site to do a five-year-memorial type article. I was still in college. And then I realized that if there was a God, He was a total dick who didn't care about anything. So... Yeah. That's where I stand. There may be a God who's still out there. But I haven't seen any proof for a while." He glanced over at Dean, who was staring at him with a dropped jaw. "What about you?"

Dean blinked and closed his mouth, replacing his awed expression with one of boyish carelessness. "Atheist and proud. If there is a God, I wouldn't believe in Him even if He danced the can-can in front of me. 'Cause God gives the Winchesters no favours. Why should I pray to Him if He destroyed everything- well, almost everything- that was good in my life, right?"

Cas nodded grimly and Dean smiled, diffusing the tension. "15 siblings? Seriously?"

Cas rolled his eyes. "I told you not to judge me."

"I'm not, I just... Heh. Must have been crazy, growing up with so many. Were you the oldest, or?..."

"Nah. Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael were older than me. And Luci."

Dean whistled. "Wow. You weren't kiddin' when you said your parents were religious. Those are all angels, right?"

"Yeah. Luci was supposed to be short for Lucifer, but then somehow my parents realized that wouldn't be socially acceptable and shortened it. Poor girl."

"So what's Castiel?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Angel of Thursday."

Dean made an appreciative face. "Cool. Did you get beat up a lot in high school?"

Cas rolled his eyes. "Would have been. But my older brothers were decent fighters, and they taught me how to defend myself pretty well. People stayed away from me after I broke some kid's nose by accident. He was going to give me a swirly and I kinda lost control."

"Jesus, Cas," Dean said, admiration in his eyes, "and you think _I _need therapy for my deep-seated aggression." Cas smiled sardonically, and Dean grinned. "Kidding. Obviously. Besides, I like a boy who can fight."

Cas's heart warmed at that, and his mind was instantly throwing itself in a thousand different directions, trying to interpret Dean's words, both with and without subtext. He managed to reel it in just in time to smile at Dean and say, "I'm glad" and look away before he said anything else, something he might end up regretting.

"So after Dallas, Austin, right?" Dean asked, closing his eyes and relaxing his head against the back of the seat.

"Right."

"You'll have to show me around."

Cas scoffed. "I'll do my best. Keep in mind that I never really go outside, though. So I have no idea where the good tourist places are or whatever."

"No, man, I don't care about the tourist traps. Show me the _real_ Austin. The best bars, the best views, the full deal," Dean said sincerely. "I want to see you in your natural habitat."

Cas smiled at Dean's choice of words. "Uh, inside. In front of a computer."

"Oh, you're no fun," Dean groaned. "You have to know some good bars from your crazy college days of booze, right?"

"I think I was forbidden for life from most of them, to be honest," Cas admitted somewhat gingerly.

"Even better," Dean said and smiled widely. "More fun that way."

"Dean, what part of 'I don't drink' did you not-"

"Oh, I'm not saying _you _need to drink," Dean said, opening his eyes and looking at Cas innocently. "Just show me where _I _can."

Cas raised an eyebrow. "I'm warning you. Bad things will happen if you get me drunk."

"I'm not trying to get you drunk, Cas," Dean said, eyes sparkling. "Really."

Cas rolled his eyes and reached for his laptop. "Anyway, I'm going to write until we get to Dallas. Mind?"

"Do whatever you want," Dean drawled and rolled his feet off Cas's lap, Cas secretly unwilling for that to happen. "I'm going to sleep now anyway. Tulsa tired me out for some strange reason."

Cas wrote a few more odds and ends about the tour, eventually starting to assemble them into a very general outline of what the article was going to be. He couldn't help but feel that it was missing something, though. A spark. One he very rarely had when he was writing articles, but felt that this one demanded.

Giving up after an hour or so, Cas, too, decided to sleep, and did so. When he woke up, he was in Dallas, and Dean was still asleep.

Trying to avoid looking at Dean's sleeping form as much as possible, Cas slowly got out of bed, stretched, and padded to the front room. The clock read 8:24 AM, and Cas answered emails and texts until a very sleepy Dean stumbled out.

"G'morning," Dean mumbled and crashed into a wall. Cas leapt to his feet and extended a supporting arm, guiding Dean to the couch. "Thanks," Dean said and flopped down onto it. He was pleasantly warm from being asleep for so long, and Cas hated himself for noticing that.

"How did you sleep?" Cas asked somewhat rhetorically.

Dean groaned. "I thought I was _still _asleep, actually."

"You're not. Hate to break it to you."

Dean rolled over onto his face and said nothing.

"If you're just going to sleep more, you may as well go back to your bunk," Cas suggested, perching next to Dean.

"No, I'm actually going to wake up properly in a minute here." Dean rolled over onto his back again and winced. "I think I slept weird or something because literally everything hurts."

"I think it may be a cumulative hangover," Cas said helpfully.

Dean made a disgruntled sound and closed his eyes. "Coffee?"

"Get your own."

"Please?"

Cas sighed. "Fine. Here."

Dean propped himself up on an elbow and reached out with the other arm for the cup, dabbing the surface of the coffee lightly to make sure it wasn't too hot. "Thanks." He drank. "Good stuff."

"Sure."

"What time's the concert?"

Cas glanced at his computer. "I think at 7:30 again. But you're sound-checking at 11. I think. I mean, that's what this radio station's website says. Apparently, some fans get to stand witness to your pre-show thing today. Contest winners or something."

"Wanna play hooky?" Dean asked, suddenly serious. "I don't think I'm up for that sort of thing today."

They stared at each other for a few seconds, then Cas looked away. "As much as I would love to do that, you do have a responsibility. And so do I. What happened to respecting the fans?"

Dean glared down at his coffee and said nothing.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas said softly.

"You're fine," Dean said absently, looking at Cas, eyes pensive. "I'm just trying to find a rhyme for that song I've been writing. It's not going too well."

"Can I help?"

"No," Dean said, too quickly. "Uh, no. Sorry. It's something I'll work out on my own. Thanks."

"Okay." They sat in silence for a few seconds, and Cas pulled his laptop towards him again.

"How's the article?"

Cas scrolled up through the haphazardly thrown together pages. "Not too badly. I've got more of an outline now. How's your song, tricky rhyme aside?"

Dean wrinkled his nose. "Stuck in verse two. But other than that, just dandy."

"What's it about?" Cas asked, and Dean looked slightly hostile.

"Nothing."

"Okay..."

Dean finished the last of the coffee and sat up straight. "Care to go wander the streets of Dallas with me?" He paused, and clarified. "Well, the ones directly surrounding the convention center, of course."

"Sure," Cas said, and ten minutes later, they were out the door.

"Ooh. Warm," Dean said and pulled at the neck of his t-shirt. "Southern weather, man. Insane."

Cas nodded. "It's worse than this in Austin. It gets really humid during the summer, much more so than in Dallas. Or so I've heard from people that live here."

"How hot does it get?"

Cas considered. "Usually more than a hundred degrees every day."

Dean's eyebrows flew up. "God. In Florida, it gets pretty hot sometimes, but never above the mid-nineties."

"Lucky you."

"Yeah, lucky me," Dean echoed, but there was no joy in his voice.

They ducked through alleys and walked down small side streets for around half an hour, talking minimally. Cas wasn't sure if it had been Tulsa's blandness, the song lyric's refusal to rhyme, sleeping uncomfortably, or thoughts of Florida that made Dean unsociable.

Whatever it was, he wished it would go away.

Eventually, Dean glanced at Cas's watch and said, "We should go back."

Cas nodded. "As you wish."

Dean's eyes instantly brightened. "The Princess Bride?"

"Absolutely," Cas said, smiling warmly.

And the old Dean was back, and the two of them discussed cheesy-but-lovable movies like _The Princess Bride _until they reached the bus.

Sound-checking went as usual, despite the fact that around fifty squealing teenage girls and boys were present. Dean did remarkably well, keeping his language clean and his tone of voice civil when talking to the sound people. He interacted with the small audience as little as he could, for he would have become distracted and unable to proceed had he talked to them as much as he usually did at concerts. It was over before too much time had passed- Dean seemed to have gotten the hang of testing out his voice and instruments- and soon Cas and Dean were sitting together backstage, chatting quietly as the conference center filled in.

The concert went rather well. Dean by that point had gotten a strict routine in the jokes he made, the things he said, the way he said them.

And even though Cas had seen him doing his thing several times already, he couldn't help but still be charmed by the man onstage, completely different from the one he knew.

Once it was over, Dean and Cas went back to the bus and talked little before going to bed ("I'm saving up all my energy for tomorrow," Dean had claimed with a wink). Cas wrote a page or two and Dean scratched away at his notepad, pausing every few seconds to scribble something out with a muted curse and to write something new in. Cas could sense that he and Dean were equally curious about the creative musings of the other, but were both not willing to give in first and ask to read or hear the work-in-progress.

And the sun set on another day of Dean Winchester's Magical Mystery Tour as the bus pulled out of Dallas and on to the great city of Austin.

* * *

**Note: if you're reading this, that means you've stuck this far with the wacky adventures of rockstar!Dean and reporter!Cas and I thank and adore you for it. I realize it's been moving rather slowly (like, really, really slowly), but I promise you will be semi-rewarded for your patience in chapter 9, Austin, which will be posted in, ooh, say, six days. **

**Thanks again, darlings, and don't forget to review! 3**


	9. Austin

**Welp. Here you go. Six days, as promised.**

**Disclaimer: there are song lyrics in this chapter. They are not mine in any way. All rights go to their respective owner, and all that.**

**I hope it's been worth the wait! And I hope even more that you enjoy.**

**And so, without further ado, I present...**

**Austin.**

* * *

"There's a lovely cafe down the street if you wanted actual breakfast," Cas said, gesturing in the general area. Dean considered, but then got distracted by loud music pumping from a partially opened door to his right.

"What's that?" he asked, peering into the crack.

Cas rolled his eyes. "A bar, Dean. But one of the really lame ones that no one ever goes to."

"Oh." Dean, disappointed, pulled away from the door. "You said something about breakfast?"

"Sure did." They set off towards the promised cafe and got a booth by the window, watching the people of Austin pass by. The waiter stopped by the table and flirted shamelessly with Dean, even though he didn't seem to recognize who he was. Cas rolled his eyes, insanely jealous but unwilling to show it more than was necessary. He looked up at Dean only to find Dean's eyes wide and full of an expression that begged Cas for help in getting out of this situation. Cas smiled with one side of his mouth, promptly ordered two standard eggs-and-bacon platters, voice hard as he talked to the waiter.

The waiter looked back and forth from Dean to Cas, blushed deeply, apologized profusely, and darted away after scribbling down their order.

Dean grinned at Cas. "Thanks."

Cas sighed. "Sure."

Dean looked out of the window. "So what're the best bars, Cas?"

Cas cringed. "Look, Dean, I really-"

"Please?" Dean asked, powering up his puppy eyes, and Cas couldn't resist.

"I only know a few. There's a decent one a couple streets down from here. And a few more dotted around downtown." Cas looked at Dean sharply. "But I'm telling you. Getting me drunk is a very bad idea."

"What, do you Hulk out or something?" Dean said, smirking, but stopped when he saw how serious Cas's eyes were. "Look, I'm just kidding. I promise not to drag you into anything you don't want to be a part of, okay? I wouldn't do that to you, Cas."

Cas half-smiled, looking into Dean's eyes, and time stood still, as did Cas's heart.

But, as was usually the case with such things, the moment ended a few seconds later- although it had gone on for just a bit too long to seem casual- when Dean grinned and said, "No, anything emotionally damaging that you do, you have to do to yourself."

Cas rolled his eyes and tried to keep the smile from his face. "Whatever, Dean."

Dean chuckled and looked out the window, too. The waiter appeared again, threw the two plates of breakfast on the table, and mumbled something about "Enjoy your meal" before vanishing again as fast as he could to prevent further humiliation.

"Jesus, Cas, what did you even do to him?" Dean asked incredulously.

Cas raised an eyebrow mysteriously and said nothing, pulling his plate towards him. Dean was about to say something else, but soon noticed the presence of bacon and couldn't speak for a few more minutes.

Once he had finished shoving his face, Dean swallowed, took a swig of the orange juice that had almost magically just appeared there- the flirty waiter had acquired quite the ability to come and go unnoticed- and sighed, resting his hands behind his head and leaning back against the dark blue leather of the booth. "Good stuff."

"Right?"

"Right."

Cas ordered the bill and Dean graciously offered to pay. Once he was done scrawling an edited version of his signature- his actual one was far too distinctive to use in day-to-day activities- he let Cas see the bill, who smirked. "What, no tip?"

"No tip," Dean said grimly and stood. "Shall we?"

Cas took a little more time in leaving the restaurant, and once Dean was already outside, the flirtatious waiter zoomed up behind Cas and said, "Look, I'm really sorry for hitting on your boyfriend like that. I just-"

Cas cut him off by laughing sardonically and went out without saying another word.

_Stop wishing he was _actually_ your boyfriend, Cas. That's never going to happen. No matter how cute you would look together as a couple, it'll never happen. Dean would never let it, and neither should you._

They returned to the bus, Cas stopping by a newsstand briefly to buy the latest copy of the newspaper he wrote for to see if anything had radically changed since he'd last read it.

Nothing had, which was probably a good thing.

"Is that your paper?" Dean asked, suddenly right over Cas's shoulder. Cas shivered as Dean's breath touched his neck. "Like, the paper you work for?"

Cas nodded. "None of my articles are in this one, though."

Dean reached over Cas and turned the page, pointing to the "Our Correspondents" column on the left side. He ran a finger down the inky line of names and stopped under the music section. "Look, there you are!"

Cas peered at it. "Huh. I've never noticed that that was there before."

"What's the 'J' stand for?"

Apparently, the paper had included Cas's middle initial that he barely ever used. "James."

Dean wrinkled his nose. "Castiel James Novak. God. Your parents must have really hated you, kiddo." He pulled away and Cas found he hadn't been breathing the entire time.

They returned to the bus and both wrote in silence- Cas the article, Dean the song. Jo appeared half an hour or so later to inform them when soundcheck was starting and vanished again, after exchanging as few words as possible with the two of them. Cas and Dean exchanged amused looks once she had gone- it was pretty cute how disgruntled she still was over Dean's rejection of her. Good thing, too. Best she stayed professional.

_What, now you're jealous of a 19-year-old? God. That's a new low for you, Cas. Especially since you, of all people, have no chance with Dean. You may as well stop seeing him that way completely._

The hall Dean was to perform in was open-air, meaning complications for the makeup people- it was already impossibly hot at eleven in the morning, and Dean was sure he would sweat profusely at the time of the concert- who had to find foundation that wouldn't run.

Cas and Sam both found the fact that Dean had to wear makeup hilarious, having never been aware of that before, and let him know of that fact several times that day. He was not appreciative, but clearly enjoyed the attention underneath.

The concert came not a moment too soon, for the heat was making everyone backstage and on short-tempered and easily upset. Three assistants stormed out in tears, Jo included. Equipment malfunctioned, Dean swore twenty times a minute, and even normally placid Ash lost his cool once or twice.

Once the concert had started, Cas noticed a change in Dean. Maybe it was the heat getting to his head or just something on his mind, but he appeared not to be in the moment as much as he usually was.

And after he had finished the first run of songs, Dean winced, wiped a hand across his forehead, and said to the crowd, "Is it hot in here or is it just me?"

Responses, of course, were mixed ("it _is _hot, but not as hot as you!") and generally unhelpful.

Dean blinked the sweat out of his eyes and shot a desperate glance to his right, where Cas was sitting in the wings, typing quietly. "Is there a towel or something back there for me? I'm sweatin' rivers here, man. Sorry," he said, flashing a quick smile at the audience. "I'm all gross and stuff right now."

Loud proclamations of not caring erupted from the crowd, but Dean's smile was wan as he continued to search the wings for someone to help. "Towel? Rag? Wipe? Nothing?"

Cas looked up from his writing and frowned, looking around- was it customary for no one to come to Dean's aid? It seemed not to be, but no one was in his area. He looked around him and found that there was indeed a small towel folded neatly on a rehearsal block next to him.

_It's now or never._

He made his choice instantly and, deciding to forget whatever humiliation would occur on stage, picked up the towel, closed his laptop, and stood, striding onto the stage before he could change his mind.

"My hero!" Dean cried, a genuinely relieved smile lighting up his face, as Cas approached. The hall applauded modestly. "Oh, come on," Dean said, pouting at the audience. "You can do better than that. This man right here is saving my life."

The applause was slightly more enthusiastic that time.

"You _angel_. Thank you." Dean smiled again at Cas, eyes creasing at the corners, and Cas felt himself blushing- Dean had never smiled at his beloved fans like that, he was sure, so why was he smiling at Cas that way now? "Ladies and gentlemen, meet Cas, my designated official sweat-wiper!"

"I am _not _your designated official sweat-wiper," Cas growled into Dean's ear from behind, reaching up to bring the towel across Dean's forehead. Dean turned his head ever so slightly, a small smile decorating his lips, and Cas stopped breathing- _he was so close. He could kiss me right now, in front of all of these people. But he won't. He never will. _

"Oh. Never mind. He's not, apparently. Awkward!" Dean sing-songed. "Heh. I'll tell you what he _is_, though," Dean said, turning back to the audience after holding eye contact with Cas for just a beat too long. "He's from here! Right, Cas?"

Cas raised his eyebrows and nodded at the audience, continuing to mop absently at Dean's forehead.

"A real Texas cowboy," Dean said, a fake Southern drawl trickling into his voice. "How 'bout that."

Cas rolled his eyes.

"Okay, well, Cas, thank you _very _much for the towel," Dean said, smiling up at Cas again and taking the towel from his hand.

"Sure thing," Cas said, wincing a second later at hearing his voice echoing through the entire stadium.

"I'll let you know if I need you again," Dean said, clapping Cas once on the arm and winking at him. "Give it up for Cas, ladies and gentlemen!"

The audience erupted into cheers and Cas, slightly confused, waved at them and vanished off into the wings again, heart suddenly pounding as he realized that he had just been on stage in front of more than 2,000 people and hadn't even blinked.

"And now," Dean said, pulling Vera back up again, "let's sing a song. An oldie but a goodie for sure. And a guilty pleasure of mine. I didn't write it- it's by the Dixie Chicks- like I said, guilty pleasure- but I do love to perform it." He paused before placing his fingers decisively onto the guitar's neck. And in the silence that always preceded Dean starting to perform, he leaned forward and, straight into the mic, said, "Cas, this one's for you." Dean looked off into the wings one last time, grinned- eyes crinkling- and began to play a twangy intro.

_I said I wanna touch the earth, I wanna break it in my hands_

_I wanna grow something wild and unruly_

_I wanna sleep on the hard ground in the comfort of your arms_

_On a pillow of bluebonnets in a blanket made of stars_

_Oh, it sounds good to me, I said_

Cas felt himself turn bright red as his imagination ran every which way. Dean was treating him like a lover, not a friend- first looking at him with bedroom eyes, then flirting shamelessly in front of thousands of people, and now this? Just him and his guitar, singing Cas a cowboy love song by the Dixie Chicks?

_Cowboy, take me away_

_Fly this boy as high as you can into the wild blue_

_Set me free, oh, I pray, closer to Heaven above and closer to you_

_Closer to you_

"Is he singing you a... love song?" Sam said, appearing behind Cas, a small frown on his face.

"I- I think so," Cas stammered out, barely believing what was happening.

Sam suddenly grinned and patted Cas on the shoulder. "You guys are too cute." He disappeared further into the backstage area to rejoin the techies before Cas could say anything in response.

_I wanna walk and not run, I wanna skip and not fall_

_I wanna look at the horizon, and not see a building standing tall_

_I wanna be the only one, for miles and miles_

_Except for maybe you, and your simple smile._

At that last line, Dean once more turned his head to the right and sang it directly to Cas, looking soulfully into Cas's eyes, no hint of a joking expression on his face.

Cas felt himself smiling uncontrollably, even though he still didn't understand what was going on. Dean was singing him a love song. A cowboy love song. On stage. At a concert. In front of thousands of people. Dead serious.

It was the best feeling in the world.

_Oh, it sounds good to me, yes, it sounds so good to me_

_Cowboy, take me away_

_Fly this boy as high as you can into the wild blue_

_Set me free, oh, I pray, closer to Heaven above and closer to you_

_Closer to you_

Cas, if he had been able to make any sound or movement at all at that moment, would have giggled girlishly and buried his face in his hands. But he had more reserve than that, and instead stood quietly, burning up inside to know what exactly was happening.

Dean repeated the chorus two more times to great enthusiasm from the audience. Once he had finished, he waved into the wings, smiled, and set Vera down. "Well, that was fun. And unplanned. Let's get back to our tour of the galaxy, shall we?"

The rest of the concert went as all others before it, though Dean seemed more engaged than he had before the strange interlude.

The concert ended as planned, and Dean, after taking a few extra bows, retreated off into the right wing, where Cas's heart was almost beating out of his chest in anticipation. _What is he going to say to me? What am I going to say to him? What if-_

"Let's go," Dean said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and striding past Cas without even looking at him too much.

_Oh._

_That, I didn't expect._

The air had cooled down considerably, and Cas met a pensive Dean by the bus, who shot him a smile and detached himself from leaning on the bus's side. "Come on, Cas- leave your things and let's go get me something to drink."

Cas raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything before hastily leaving his laptop on his bunk and returning back out to Dean.

"So where's the best bar? You said a few streets away, right?"

Cas nodded. "Place I went to a lot in college."

"Oh, we're _definitely _going there now," Dean said, flashed Cas a smile, and jammed his cold hands into his pockets. "Lead on!"

They didn't talk much on their short journey there, which Cas was oddly okay with- his mind was going far too fast for him to ever be able to speak coherently to Dean.

Once they had arrived, Dean ordered a cocktail of sorts and raised the glass to Cas, crinkling his eyes before drinking deeply.

Two hours later, Cas was drunk.

Dean bought round after round, concern starting to drift into his eyes as Cas gave himself into temptation with complete abandon. They drank the exact same amount, and both were bleary and slurring words pretty soon, though Dean was in slightly better shape than Cas. Conversation was limited, but drinks weren't- it just so happened to be "Happy Hour all day!" at the bar.

Three hours later, and the bartender kicked them out.

They lurched back to the bus, arms around each others' shoulders, one supporting the other, blind leading the blind. Laughing uncontrollably, telling stories made up on the spot only to be forgotten two minutes later, they barely managed to stumble up the steps and into the front room of the bus before a sudden silence fell as they ran out of words.

Cas blinked as Dean became two and then one again. He was all blurry, and Cas snatched at the shapes drifting around the twin Deans, but they kept moving away before he could catch them.

Dean laughed.

"What?" Cas asked, suddenly offended.

"I like you when you're drunk, is all," Dean said, smiling in that childish manner that all people seem to acquire when they're drunk. There was a pause. "Of course, I like you when you're not drunk, too..."

Cas swayed slightly, just now remembering that he had legs, and anticipation fluttered through Dean's bloodshot eyes.

But vanished a second later as they slid closed and he launched himself at Cas, pressing his lips firmly against the reporter's.

Cas got over the shock almost instantly, gasping into Dean's mouth and opening his own, twining his hands in Dean's hair.

Soon, Cas's back was against the wall as Dean fumbled with Cas's tie and pushed the trench coat off of Cas's shoulders. Cas pulled up at the hem of Dean's shirt- his jacket had long been cast off and flung onto the couch- and Dean made an impatient sound against Cas's lips and tugged his shirt completely off as quickly as he could, unwilling to have his mouth separated from Cas's for more than a second. Dean began to pull at the buttons of Cas's shirt as he continued to kiss him hungrily, Cas responding with greater enthusiasm than he'd ever thought possible, because he wanted this. He'd wanted this for so long, and then it was actually happening, with Dean's mouth traveling down to Cas's neck, pulling him closer, _closer_, and there were hands, hands everywhere, and they were too entwined to ever be separated, surely, moving along the wall, stumbling, pressed impossibly close, breathing together and moving together. Cas's shirt came off quickly under the combined pressure of his and Dean's impatient hands and they continued to explore the feeling of something they'd both been waiting for for so long, each's desire unbeknownst to the other.

Nothing was an obstacle to them as they kissed in a path towards the bunk area, manoeuvering around any and all objects that came in their way. Back sliding down the pole that supported the beds as Dean kissed him just below his ear, Cas found himself on his bunk, Dean's weight pressing down on top of him. Cas continued to roam his hands freely around Dean's naked torso, brain completely shut off save for the mantra _this is happening, this is happening, this is happening right now_.

Suddenly, Dean pulled away, staring down at Cas, confusion in his eyes. He looked at Cas's hand, clamped in between his shoulder and the back of his neck, at Cas's own neck and lips, bruised and swollen with Dean's kisses, at Cas's hair, going in every possible direction, for that was where Dean's hands had pulled it.

He blinked.

"Cas... what the hell are we doing?"

The impact of what had just happened hit Cas like a lead brick to the brain, as did an overwhelming desire to die, _because Dean didn't want you, he was just drunk, and so are you._

_Oh, Jesus Christ, you're drunk as _hell_. Just look at yourself. You're a _mess_. This is the drunkest you've ever been. Look. You just made out with your best friend and he just practically told you it was a mistake and that he doesn't want you that way._

_You're pathetic._

Cas groaned and allowed his head to fall to the side, already feeling the headache coming on with incredible speed.

"Oh, I _told_ you you shouldn't have gotten me drunk," he moaned and passed out into blissful, unaware darkness.


	10. New Orleans

Cas woke up, decided that was a bad move, and fell back asleep.

The next time he awoke, his headache had subsided slightly and he was able to open his eyes and stare up at the bunk above him, eyes horrified as he remembered the humiliating events of the previous night.

Dreading the look on Dean's face, Cas turned his head ever so slowly to the left, only now beginning to wonder how he had gotten to be covered properly by blankets when he had simply passed out, half-clothed, the night before.

He found an empty bunk when he had managed to turn his head all the way over, and the rest of the bus was completely silent. "D-dean?" he called, voice cracking in the middle of the word. There was no response, and Cas considered it safe to sit up.

That, too, was a bad move- his headache instantly returned, a thousand times stronger than before, and Cas was about to fall back onto his bunk when he saw the folded piece of torn notebook paper wedged in between Dean's blanket and the bed-frame.

Clutching his head in pure agony, Cas reached out and clasped the paper, seeing that it had "Cas" written on it in scrawly handwriting.

He unfolded the note and began to read.

_"Good morning, and welcome to New Orleans!_

_If you're reading this, that means I'm already sound-checking over at the concert hall. Didn't want to wake you up for that, 'cause you were out pretty hard (you snore when you sleep drunk, too. REALLY loudly) and soundcheck is always pretty boring. _

_Coffee is in the front room and so is a bagel. I figured you wouldn't want to go too far for breakfast so I got you some. I hope you like cream cheese. And tabasco sauce._

_And there's some Tylenol or something in the cupboard over the fridge. You should take it._

_You don't have to go to the concert tonight. You said you hadn't drunk for, like, five years, so your hangover is probably the worst thing _ever_. So just stay here and sleep it off or something. Relax, I promise you won't miss much._

_And don't wander off! You're in no condition to go anywhere. Trust me on that. Don't make me worry about you, Cas._

_I'll see you tonight, and you better be okay._

_x"_

Dean had terrible handwriting.

Cas scanned the message a couple times again before relief flooded his body and he almost collapsed back onto his bed at the sudden vanishing of tension he didn't know existed.

Dean didn't hate him. Didn't want to never talk to him again. Rather, he was being even more flirtatious than normal.

Could it be that he was... _okay_ with what had happened the previous night?

Cas re-read the whole thing once more, eyes sticking to the tiny "x" at the end.

X.

A kiss.

Or maybe that was how Dean usually signed his notes.

Hating himself already for what he was about to do, Cas rolled his eyes and reached for his omnipresent phone, pulling up Google and running a search for how Dean Winchester signs messages.

_"Dean Winchester signs his personal notes with his name, and one thing that makes his signature distinctive is the shading on the-_"

Cas stopped reading and took a deep, shaky breath.

Dean had signed his note with a kiss. There was no doubt about it.

Cas fell back onto his pillow and allowed himself a small smile in triumph.

_And how about that- he'd kissed a boy and he'd liked it._

"Liked" wasn't even the right word. Kissing Dean had made Cas question every second of his past heterosexuality, because if being with Dean felt _so _right, no woman would ever be able to give him that sense of being made whole ever again. And every memory of every kiss and more from his past suddenly felt wrong, unwanted, not real.

Cas was not yet sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

Probably best he leave this whole incident out of the article, no matter how far it ended up going.

He rose a few seconds later, remembering slowly how to use his legs before stumbling out into the front room, using the wall for support. The light in the front room was considerably brighter than in the bunk area, and he blinked, almost blindly, for a few seconds as he adjusted. Once he had, he looked around and found that Dean indeed had brought him coffee and breakfast.

The gesture warmed his heart and he launched himself at the well-needed food, almost forgetting his hangover for a second before it came back full force and he needed to sit down for a bit as the spots in his vision cleared slowly. Once he could see again, he reached for the coffee and drank a sip.

The coffee was perfect. The perfect amount of sugar. The perfect amount of cream. The perfect temperature.

Cas wondered how Dean had known.

But then decided not to question the perfection that everything about Dean seemed to be and drank the coffee gratefully. The bagel went down his throat soon after, and Cas noted that it helped his headache immensely.

Dean was freakishly good at dealing with hangovers, clearly, and although that knowledge would have disturbed Cas before, at the moment he was far too occupied with ingesting various remedies to really care much.

The day passed in a bit of a blur as Cas drifted in and out of consciousness- he really needed to get used to drinking again, what with living with Dean and all, even though it was temporary- and wrote. He called for pizza at some point and barely managed to lurch to the door to shove a twenty in the confused and curious delivery boy's sweaty hand, grab the pizza box, and collapse again on the couch.

Sinking his teeth into the first slice he could grab, Cas opened his laptop and, horribly ashamed of himself, pulled up a search on livebloggers for tonight's concert. This would be the first concert he'd miss but he still wanted to know what was happening.

He found some teenage girl's Twitter page and sat back and relaxed, waiting for the show to begin. He thought he could hear the sounds of it starting drifting to him very faintly through the bus's open windows, but it may have just been his imagination. Cas sipped his third cup of coffee and waited.

_"omgomgomgomg he's going on stage!1 #DeanWinchester2012"_

_"oh never mind its the opening band lol srry"_

_"hahahaahahahhha they sukk! #BringDeanOnstage"_

_"#brINGDEANONSTAGE"_

_"ok ok ok ok ok omg theyre gone (lol took ages) and now DEAN!1!"_

_"well not yet but soon :) :) :) :)"_

_"omg just saw a girl with the same bag as me lol #awkward"_

_"THEYRE PUTTING HIS SPECIAL MIKE OUT #BRINGDEANONSTAGE TOO NOW LOL"_

Cas winced and practically threw his computer across the room to make it stop. Instead, he quickly exited out of the Internet browser and closed his eyes. Fine. He wouldn't get to hear about the concert as it happened. Oh, well- it was either reading all that DEANWINCHSTRLUVR77 had to say, actually going to the concert and risking certain death by way of hangover, or just staying in the dark about it.

He chose option three, hoping that Dean would tell him about it when he got back to the bus a few hours later.

So Cas slept instead.

He was awoken after what seemed like seconds by the sound of a door slamming and a tired but happy voice calling, "Oh, honey, I'm ho-ome!" in a cheesy, sing-song way. Cas instantly twitched out of sleep, blinking as he regained use of his eyes, and flailing for a second or two as he tried to sit up.

"And what sort of time do you call this?" Cas said, sitting up and swallowing so his throat was less dry.

Dean chuckled and threw his coat off onto a conveniently placed hook by the door. "How're you feeling?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"Fine."

"Good, 'cause I was worried _sick _about you." Dean strode over to where Cas was still semi-prostrate on the couch. He bent down and swiftly pressed his lips to Cas's forehead- the gesture was too chaste to even be a kiss- taking his relative temperature. Cas shivered slightly at the touch and said nothing. "You kinda have a fever," Dean said, a frown creasing his face, and straightened up. "Did you take any Tylenol or anything today?"

Cas searched his mind and found nothing. "I don't think so."

Dean swore under his breath and walked over to the cabinet over the fridge. "It was right here, dammit. You should have taken some." He poured a glass of water, shook a pill into his hand, and returned to Cas's side. "Here. Down the hatch."

Cas swallowed the pill obediently and Dean appeared to be satisfied. "You're being very motherly," Cas said once he'd drunk the entire glass of water.

"The Devil takes care of his own," Dean said, flashing Cas a smile and sitting across from him..

_His own? So... I'm yours?_

Cas cleared his throat and his thoughts. "How was the concert?"

Dean shrugged. "Normal. Nothing really happened. Some fans tried to climb onstage, which failed pretty miserably. But other than that, completely usual." He smiled. "How was your day?"

Cas sighed and lay back. "Boring. Full of writing and sleeping."

"Good. In your condition, there's nothing else you could do." Dean glanced at Cas and winced. "By the way, I- I'm really sorry. For making you break your five-years-sober thing."

Cas smiled sadly. "It was too good to be true, anyway. And it's not your fault."

Dean continued to look guilty.

"Really. Stop blaming yourself."

Dean slowly dragged his eyes over to meet Cas's, and he swallowed, expression still full of sadness. "It was my idea."

"I would have gone anyway."

They stared at each other for a few seconds and then Cas tore his eyes away. "It was my choice to drink, and I chose yes. It had nothing to do with you."

Silence for a few more seconds.

"So you, uh, still hungover?" Dean asked. Anything to break the silence.

Cas nodded. "Pretty much. It's a weird feeling." He thought. "Is this what it feels like to be pregnant?"

"What?" Dean spluttered. "_Pregnant_?"

"Yeah. You know, morning sickness, headaches, weird food cravings..."

Dean grinned. "Only you would think of that, Cas."

"Only me." Cas sat up fully and swung his legs off of the couch so he was sitting up straight and waited for further conversation.

No further conversation came.

Silence fell and sat on top of the two of them, engulfing both of their thoughts.

"Okay, let's talk about it," Dean suddenly said, the words almost erupting out of him after a few more seconds of the devastatingly awkward silence.

Cas looked at him, instantly grasping Dean's meaning and somewhat terrified about what Dean would say, and nodded.

Dean swallowed. "Let me start off by saying that for me, last night wasn't... It wasn't a mistake. And I was fully aware of what I was doing and did it by choice. If you saw it as unwanted and wish it never happened, we can stop this right here, right now, and never talk about it again. Was... was it unwanted?"

Cas slowly raised his head and met Dean's eyes and, very slowly, almost afraid, shook his head.

A grin creased Dean's face and lit up his eyes. "Okay. Cool. Me neither." He sighed, gathering his thoughts. "So... God. I had a whole speech planned out, and now I can't remember any of it. Perfect." Dean wrinkled his nose and thought briefly. "Okay. So. I've been straight my whole life. Well, kinda. Every now and then a good-looking guy would wander my way and I would deviate just a little bit. Not all the way. But that wouldn't be something I'd really talk about with anyone. So, um, yeah. So that was all really, really new for me then and still is now, because I was raised straight and have pretty much always been into girls, but... Last night?" He shook his head. "I don't know. That felt... _right_. Somehow." He glanced at Cas, sudden indecision in his eyes. "Stop me if I get too far, okay?" Cas nodded, not meeting Dean's gaze, because _Dean knew, Dean knew everything, Dean was reading his mind_. "But... when I asked you what the hell we were doing, it wasn't 'cause I didn't want what was happening or you. It was because everything was going so fast and... oh, man, Cas, you were really drunk. I couldn't take advantage of you like that. It wouldn't have been fair to anyone. Probably wouldn't have been all that great, either, because I was pretty plastered, too. And I didn't want you to wake up next to me and have no idea of what happened." Dean took a deep, shuddering breath and stared at his hands, folded in his lap. "And then again. I... I've never... I've never _been_ with a guy. If you know what I mean. Because I'm so used to being straight. And I guess I kinda did freak out a little. Even though- Christ, I can't believe I'm saying this out loud- I've been waiting for it to happen since the second we met. Which is why I was a dick to you, 'cause I was trying to distance myself from you. Like, when I slept with that maid right then, I was trying to ignore the feelings that I was having about you by drowning my sorrows and confusion in sex with a gorgeous woman. I thought that would remind me that I was straight once and for all. And, you know, I'd just turned down Jo, 'cause I was still confused as _hell _about what I somehow felt about you, so I wanted to kinda make up for that because what kind of an idiot turns down Jo? Right? And then that other girl, uh, Harpy, Happy, Hatter, or whatever her name was- same deal. I couldn't be with her because I didn't want anyone but y-you. And lots of other girls have asked to come home with me over this tour, but I've said no to all where I would say yes before. I didn't want them. I wanted you." He glanced up at Cas for a split second and then tore his eyes away, continuing. "But I just didn't know how to react after a certain point last night. I froze." He smiled sadly. "I- I guess I regret that. But the more I think about it, the better of a decision it seems to be. Because..." He took a deep breath. "If... if we do... decide to be... together. Or wh-whatever. I... I think we should take it slow. Like a normal relationship. Because I normally put out on the first date and then never see her again and end up breaking her heart. But I want to try the kind of relationship that's in all the dumb chick-flick movies. You know. Candlelight dinners. Flowers. God, maybe even hand-holding. Taking it slow. Because I've never really had that before. And you are not someone I'd want to just love and leave. Because last night, I kinda realized that I don't even really truly want you that way. I mean, I do, but I don't have to _have_ you in order to stay with you. I want to take it slow this time. It would be so nice to be in a relationship where it's me and my best friend, and we can talk, and hold hands, and... Not just have it be physical. I've never had it not just be physical. Even though..." He grinned, still resolutely not looking at Cas. "Lord knows that if you wanna fuck me, I won't say no." He stopped smiling and looked almost wistful. "But I think it'd be nice. And especially because I'm new to this whole not-heterosexual thing." And very, very slowly, Dean dragged his eyes up to meet those of Cas. "So, uh... this was basically a really, really long way of saying... wanna make out?"

And before Dean could even smile, Cas had covered Dean's mouth with his.

_Yes,_ he was thinking. _Yes, Dean, I will be your boyfriend. I will hold your hand and take you dancing and you can sing me love songs and we can go to a drive-in movie and steam up the windows, if you want. Yes. I'll be with you through that. And I want to take it slow, too, because honestly, I like you too much. And I'm scared one of us will hurt the other by accident and then we'd lose this beautiful thing that we have. So let's be good and old-fashioned. I would love that._

But what he ended up saying, a second after he pulled away from Dean, was cut off mid-word by Dean kissing him again, destroying both his words and his thoughts.

They kissed for a few minutes, not as intensely as they had the previous night, but more slowly, intimately. Since both were completely sober, they were aware of every movement they made, a hundred percent in the moment.

It was better that way, Cas decided.

When he surfaced for air, Cas placed a firm hand against Dean's chest to prevent him from stopping his words again, and began. "In a word, yes." He smiled, took a deep breath, and went on. "In many words, I agree. We should take it slow. Because I can't label myself anymore. I always thought I was straight, too, and then..." He gestured at Dean. "I guess I'm Dean-o-sexual or something." Dean snorted and Cas ignored him, going on. "I would love to have a cheesy rom-com montage relationship with you," Cas said softly, gripping the side of Dean's face with his free hand and gently stroking Dean's cheek with his thumb. "It would be an honour, Dean."

A shy smile of sorts darted across Dean's face. "Really?"

"Really." Cas leaned in and kissed Dean once.

"How about that," Dean said, pure, unadulterated joy in his eyes. "I have a boyfriend."

Cas blushed to the tips of his ears. "You sure do."

"Who are we going to tell?"

The question froze the air in the room as Cas and Dean stared at each other in absolute terror.

"Sam?" Dean whispered, eyes huge.

"Jo?"

"Ash?"

"Gordon?"

"The fans?"

"The _Internet_?"

At that point, they both started laughing and couldn't stop for a while.

When they calmed down, Dean said, "Ah, screw it. They'll figure it out for themselves."

Cas nodded and pressed a quick kiss to Dean's lips. "Poor Jo."

"Poor _Sam_," Dean said and grinned. "He'll die of shock."

"Oh, I don't know," Cas said, thinking. "I've got a brother back home he might like."

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "Is your whole family as ridiculously attractive as you?"

Cas blushed and looked away. "I... We have been told so, I guess."

"Wow," Dean said. "Congratulations on the configuration of your DNA."

"Uh, thanks. Right back at'cha."

There was a pause.

"So, really? Since the first time we met?" Cas asked, somewhat unsure of whether or not Dean still wanted to talk about it.

Dean smiled with one corner of his mouth. "Really. I couldn't stop thinking about you and it was really a problem."

Cas couldn't keep the smile from his face. "To be honest," he began quietly, knowing he'd probably regret what he was about to say, "I'd pretty much always found you attractive. First time I saw a picture of you, I thought I might swing both ways. But, uh, actually meeting you more or less confirmed it." He couldn't believe he was actually saying that out loud- something he'd had in his head for days now, and was finally telling Dean how he felt.

Dean's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

Cas nodded. "Yeah."

Dean grinned and pressed a swift kiss against Cas's lips. "Nice going, me."

"Right, nice going, destroying everything I thought was a given in my life," Cas growled against Dean's mouth, which only made him chuckle and kiss him harder.

When they separated, Cas was gripped by a sudden urge, which he gave into- he raised a slim finger and touched it lightly in between Dean's eyebrows, slowly tracing a line down Dean's freckled nose.

Dean shivered.

Cas tapped the tip of Dean's nose lightly and removed his hand, grinning. "So you turned down Jo and Harper for me?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I knew you were going to use that against me forever."

"Sure will."

That night, they talked until long, long after the bus had begun its trek to Jackson, Missouri. This time, they discussed personal things- far more personal than they would ever have discussed before. But now, they somehow felt safer around one another. More trusting. More open. So they talked of their hopes and their nightmares, their ghosts and their fears. What they'd planned for their lives and what had actually happened.

Eventually, both drifted off in the middle of a pause in between sentences, each to dream about the other.

Life finally made sense.

* * *

**Okay, okay, did you guys actually think that after dragging you through nine chapters of Unresolved Sexual Tension that I WOULDN'T make them be together?**

**COME ON.**

**Anyway, yes, chapter 10. Sorry I posted this so late in the day- my WiFi was being wonky this morning.**

**So here it is, featuring a total cop-out on my part (I foresaw the awkwardness, you see, and instead had Cas wake up late, because you can't just swing back into normal life after getting drunk for the first time in FIVE YEARS OMG so yeah) with Dean not being there and THE LONGEST MONOLOGUE I HAVE EVER WRITTEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE GOSH WOW IT'S LIKE MORE THAN TWO PAGES LONG?**

**So please review, because I really need to know what y'all think before I can write more. Yesplsthx. And if you're reading this, that means you've stuck with this dumb story of mine this far, and I love you for it. Thank you so much. I appreciate each and every single one of my readers. **

**Thanks a bucket, guys, and see you in six or so days!**


	11. Jackson

**Hellooooo, here is chapter 11.**

**Okay, first, though, an apology: chapters 11-13 are more or less just fluff. Literally just that. Transition chapters. And I'm so, so sorry for writing shameless shmoop (though Lord knows the fandom needs more of that) because there's been so little plot development recently and will be so much less in the future but exciting things start happening towards the end of ch13 and mostly in ch14. So. Sorry again for the lack of that.**

**I hope you guys like fluff, because that's just what you're going to get!**

**And, as always, please review if you like and tell me what you thought and if I need to cut the fluff and start writing more angst stuff again.**

**Enjoy Jackson!**

* * *

In Cas's dream, Dean was old. He had aged gracefully- the lines on his face only adding to his oddly distinguished appearance, hair grey but speckled with the dark blonde colour that he had had in his youth, hands still long and spidery as ever, but somehow more fragile. He was sitting alone on the porch of some house, watching the sunset as fireflies flew past.

There was a voice from inside the house, and Dean turned his head, and Cas- much, much older, too- appeared on the porch, bearing a pitcher of what appeared to be iced tea. As he walked past Dean, he bent down and gently kissed Dean, eventually sitting across from him and pouring two glasses of the tea.

They held hands over the table.

Left hands.

Both with silver bands on their ring fingers.

And they smiled at each other, in their mutual age and the silence, as the sun set.

Cas woke up and was shocked to find tears on his pillow.

_It's official. I have turned into a teenage girl._

God, less than a day of "dating" Dean and he was already fantasizing about spending the rest of his days with him?

No wonder girls always dumped him- he got too into it way too fast.

Cas rolled onto his left side and looked at Dean, who was still asleep- he was on his right side, facing Cas's bunk.

He was really quite adorable when he slept.

Chest rising and falling, lips slightly parted, hair mussed, usually tense body completely relaxed. He looked almost as genuinely happy as he had in Cas's dream. Every now and then, he would twitch, and his lips would move- he was dreaming.

Cas wondered what about.

And then Dean's eyes snapped open and he grinned. "You have got to stop watching me sleep, Cas."

Cas rolled his eyes and disagreed.

"No, don't get me wrong, I'm cool with it, I guess," Dean said and yawned widely. "Anyway, how'd you sleep?"

"Just fine. What about you?"

"Kept waking up for some reason," Dean said, rubbing his eyes. "Did you know that you drool?"

"I do _not._"

Dean reached a hand out as far as he could from under the warm blanket and touched a corner of Cas's mouth. "You do. It's very cute."

Cas, as much as he didn't want to, batted Dean's hand away. "Stop."

Dean winked. "I'd kiss you, but I bet you'd taste like sleep."

"Right back at'cha," Cas said. Smiled.

"So where are we, then?" Dean said, groaning slightly as he raised himself to a sitting position.

Cas thought. "We were just in New Orleans?"

"Yeah."

"Means we're in Jackson. You should really learn to keep track of these things, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Right, Cas, whatever." He considered for a second. "I don't really know anyone in Missouri, actually."

"Meaning you've never slept with anyone from here?" Cas asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean made a hurt sound and pressed a dramatic hand against his chest. "Ouch, Cas!"

Cas grinned. "What? That's what you meant, right?"

Dean grumbled. "Whatever."

"I'm right, aren't I."

"Stop making me out to be a floozy," Dean protested as Cas sat up, too.

Cas sighed. "Oh, I can't win here. I'm sorry I implied that you were of questionable character, Dean."

Dean stood and pressed a kiss to the top of Cas's head. "Don't worry about it, darlin'. I know that I am."

Cas rose to his feet next to Dean and stretched. "How's your song coming along?"

Dean sniffed. "Eh. Not super great, I guess. It's been a while since I wrote any of it. How's the article?"

"Not coming along at all. I am so far behind it's not even funny anymore." Cas rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Guess I've been too distracted to write." He looked at Dean. "Thanks a lot."

"Any time," Dean said, a smile playing around his lips. "You gonna let me read it any time soon?"

Cas groaned. "Oh, Dean, not this again. You know I can't."

"Yeah, that's what you said about getting drunk, too, and look what happened there," Dean said, infuriatingly right.

"Too soon," Cas said firmly, and Dean made a small apologetic sound, gently gripping Cas's shoulder.

"You don't regret it, though, right?" Dean asked hesitantly after a few seconds of silence.

"Of course not, Dean," Cas replied softly. "I mean, I'm kinda mad at myself that I gave up my whole alcohol-abstinence thing so fast, but if I hadn't..."

"We wouldn't be together now," Dean finished and grinned at Cas. "And that would totally suck."

"You gonna tell the fans?" Cas asked, hoping to keep the mood of levity going, but Dean suddenly froze, fear drifting into his eyes.

"I... I didn't think about that. Not seriously, anyway," he said, meek, and looked off to the side awkwardly. "I- I don't know. D'you think I should?"

Cas shrugged. "Do whatever you want. I mean, do you think they'll stop loving your music once they realize they have no chance with you?"

"Maybe," Dean whispered, shivering. "I... maybe. Do you think they will?"

Cas smiled. "Dean, I have found in my time as a journalist that girls like boys who like boys. So sure, some of them- or all of them- will be disappointed, but your popularity will skyrocket along with the amount of erotic slash fanfiction written about you on the Internet."

Dean considered for a second and then frowned. "Erotic slash fanfiction?" he repeated, genuinely unaware as to what that was.

Cas gulped. "Uh, don't think about it too much."

"Okay," Dean said, still wary.

"And stay away from a website called 'tumblr' as much as you possibly can."

"Okay," Dean said, fake exasperation in his voice. "Okay, _Mom_, I know how to stay safe on the Internet."

"You really don't, though," Cas sighed.

Dean rolled his eyes fondly and leaned over, pecking Cas's cheek. "You should teach me sometime."

"Sure," Cas said, turning his head so his lips met Dean's. Dean made a contented noise and shifted slightly so he fit better with Cas, reaching up and tangling his fingers in Cas's hair, basically attaching himself. The kiss was just about to deepen when there was a knock on the tour bus door and Dean practically leapt back, away from Cas, hastily smoothing the other man's hair and flattening out the creases in his own shirt where Cas had bunched it with his hands. "Uh, y-yeah, come in," he said, shifting uneasily and clearing his throat.

It was Sam, and his eyes darted first to Cas's still ruffled hair, then to Dean's still rumpled shirt, and between the both of their's bruised lips. He raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything other than, "So Ash and I were gonna go grab breakfast at this place he says is, uh, t-totally poppin', 'cause he's from here so he should know, and we were wondering if you two wanted to come along."

Dean glanced at Cas, and Cas nodded. "Yeah, sure. Thanks, Sammy."

"Like, now," Sam persisted.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Like, in my sleep clothes?"

Sam huffed. "Obviously get dressed first, Dean. We're leaving in five minutes." And with that, he left the bus.

Dean sighed. "Oh, what a little bitch." He looked at Cas apologetically. "I'm sorry. He didn't use to be like this. And then he went to college, and then I got famous, and..." Dean trailed off and waved a hand in the air to signify time passing and Sam changing. "Now he's like _that_."

"Dean, that's not bad at all," Cas countered. "Try growing up in a family with 15 siblings. Eleven of whom are younger than you."

Dean winced. "That must have been horrible."

"I got sent off to a lot of summer camps. It was more or less okay."

"Still, though," Dean said and pressed a chaste kiss against Cas's lips. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Four minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, Dean grabbed his jacket and slid it over his shoulders as Cas waited patiently for him to leave the bus first. They got out eventually, meeting Sam and Ash in front of the tech bus and setting off for the cafe which Ash swore up and down to have the best food in all of Jackson.

It was a cute retro diner-type place, with red leather booths and a working jukebox. Dean's eyes lit up at seeing it, but the second he tried to advance towards it, already rummaging in his jeans pocket for fifty cents, Sam shot out a restraining arm to keep him back. Dean growled but didn't resist, knowing he'd lose in a battle with his brother.

Sam sat next to Ash, and Dean sat across from him and next to Cas. A very, very vague plot was half-conceived to hold hands under the table, but failed a second later when the bored waiter dropped their menus in front of them. He was a hipster-looking kind of guy, and clearly recognized Dean. Dean's music was probably just too mainstream for him.

Everyone got a menu, and Cas reached for the specials list. It was a flimsy paper thing, and the instant he picked it up, it drew a little line of blood across his fingertip. "Ooh. Paper cut," he said, staring at the little red droplet pooling on his finger.

The second he said that, Dean made a sad face and grabbed Cas's hand, bringing it up to an inch away from his lips. "Aw, Cas, I'm sorry. Need me to kiss it better?"

Cas felt the tips of his ears turn pink. Was it now Dean's plan to be as obvious about their relationship in front of Sam as possible? "S-sure."

Dean grinned and pressed a kiss to Cas's fingertip, sending a tiny spark of warmth down Cas's hand. "All better," Dean said and abruptly let go.

There was a bit of an awkward pause as Sam stared at his brother but said nothing. There were questions in his eyes, but none of them were voiced, and the silence continued.

Suddenly, Ash, who'd been looking at the menu the whole time and had no idea of what had just transpired, said, "Oh, man, I totally know what I'm eating." He pointed at the large letters on the top of the page, which read "THE SWEETEST BREAKFAST YOU CAN HAVE! Two fresh buttermilk waffles with syrup of your choice (strawberry, maple, blueberry), whipped cream, fresh fruit of your choice (seasonal), and two toppings of your choice (chocolate chips, chocolate shavings, cinnamon, sprinkles)!"

Cas snorted. "You're exactly like my brother- he pretty much never eats anything that isn't sweet."

"Brother? Which one?" Dean asked, leaping at the excuse to look away from Sam's accusing gaze.

"Gabriel. Third oldest."

"Wait, wait, wait... Gabriel?" Sam asked, eyes suddenly widening. "Your brother Gabriel? And you're Cas Novak, so... your brother is... Gabriel Novak?"

Cas nodded slowly, one eyebrow raised. "Yes, he is."

Sam inhaled sharply. "Oh, my God. Are you serious?"

"Y-yes, Sam, I'm serious. I- I don't understand. How is that a big deal?"

Sam turned bright pink and stammered out, "I-i'm a huge fan of his work. He is so incredibly talented and truly has a gift for language and I just- wow, Cas, that's incredible, I can't believe I never connected the dots, oh, my God, what's he like? Is he anything like the characters in his books? Or does he base them on his family? I mean your family? Which book by him is your favourite? Does he write all the time? What-"

"I've actually never read any of Gabe's books, and he whines about that a lot," Cas interrupted, an amused expression on his face. He looked at Dean. "Told you I had a brother he'd like." Dean grinned. Cas looked back at Sam. "Gabe actually said he might come to one of the shows. He's in Vermont right now, doing 'research' for his upcoming book or whatever, and said he might come down to one of the New England shows and say hi."

Sam's eyes widened even further, now almost taking up half of his face. "Seriously?" he breathed. "Gabriel Novak? At a Dean Winchester concert? Why would he stoop to that level of entertainment?" He ignored Dean's huff and continued. "I- could I meet him? Maybe? Would that be okay? I promise I won't be annoying and crazed, I-"

"He'd love it if you were annoying and crazed," Cas said firmly. "His ego is the size of, like, Russia already, so he loves it when his fans tell him how much they adore him."

Sam beamed. "That would be really incredible. Thank you. Thank you so, so much."

Cas rolled his eyes at Dean. "Sure thing, Sam."

"You never told me the rest of your family was ridiculously talented, Cas," Dean said a few minutes later around a mouthful of breakfast sandwich.

"Mmm. 'Cause it's not. We're just an artsy kind of crowd. Gabe writes books, I write articles, Luci paints, Anna dances, Raphael is a public speaker activist-type person, Michael has his own clothing line, and Uriel is an actor on Broadway. And the younger ones have interests in stuff, too, like science. Whereas our parents mostly sit at home and read the Bible all day. So I have no idea where we got that from."

Dean nodded and made an appreciative sound. "Well, in my family, I'm a professional musician and Sammy's a professional bitch."

"At least I'm not a jerk like you," Sam grunted, and Dean rolled his eyes.

Ash hadn't been kidding- the food really was pretty spectacular, and everyone involved ate rather quickly. Once all were done, everyone pitched in a little money, and the two groups split, Sam still looking suspiciously from Dean to Cas as they left.

Back on the bus, Cas tried to understand. "So... your plan is to make it really obvious," he clarified.

Dean shrugged. "What's the point in hiding it, right?"

"You could just tell him."

Dean's eyes widened and he shook his head. "No, absolutely not. That's a bad idea."

"I know what this is about," Cas interrupted. "You just don't like having heart-to-hearts with your brother. 'Cause it brings up too many memories. Am I right?"

Dean, stunned, stumbled back a step or two. "Well... that escalated quickly," he said, averting his eyes.

Realizing what he'd just done, Cas swore and stepped forward, enveloping Dean in his arms. Dean didn't participate in the hug but just stood there stiffly, arms hanging uselessly at his sides. "I'm sorry," Cas murmured into Dean's hair. "I don't know why I said that. I was just confused and miffed for some reason and I shouldn't have said that. It was completely out of line."

"Damn straight it was," Dean said gruffly, but Cas could hear the smile in his voice as Dean finally wrapped his arms around Cas's waist, returning the hug.

"Kiss it better?" Cas asked, voice gently mocking Dean's that morning at breakfast.

"Sure."

Cas turned his head and kissed Dean sweetly on the lips, and they stood there like that for a minute or so. Eventually, Dean pulled away and asked, "No, seriously, though, what should we do about Sam?"

Cas thought. "We could wait until he meets Gabriel and falls hopelessly in love and then explain."

"Wait, you weren't just making that up? About Gabriel coming to the concert?" Dean asked, one eyebrow raised.

Cas shook his head. "He said he would, and Gabriel only lies when it would benefit him. So yes, he'll be there. And Sam'll meet him and fall in love and then we'll be able to explain to him and he'll relate!"

"Does Gabe swing that way?" Dean asked, ever-concerned about his little brother's feelings.

"Sometimes. Does Sam?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "No idea. Maybe. I mean, he's never been in a relationship with not a girl. But it's not like we ever talk about it."

"Okay," Cas sighed. "Let's hope it happens. That would make things a lot easier."

"But until then, we're not gonna tell anyone? Not Sam, not Jo, not anyone?"

"I thought you said they'd figure it out on their own," Cas said.

"Yeah, they probably will. And we'll tell them if we ask, right?"

"Right."

"Okay." Dean grinned and sat on the couch, patting the seat next to him, inviting Cas to sit by his side. "Now teach me how to use the Internet."

"Now?"

"Yeah! We got nothing else to do, right?"

Cas sat to Dean's left, pulling out his laptop and opening the browser. "Here we go, then. God help us all."

Cas did the best he could to show Dean the sites to avoid and the sites that were useful, but it was incredibly difficult- Dean kept kissing Cas by his right ear as he talked and it was very distracting.

"Dean..." Cas began blearily, mind and words somewhat blurred in his head by the sensation of Dean's lips. "Was this just an excuse to make out with the side of my face?"

"A little bit," Dean said, smiling against Cas and kissing him just under his cheekbone. "But you really are teaching me useful things, Cas. Thank you."

Cas rolled his eyes. "I haven't been focused the entire time, dammit. I have pretty much no idea of what I said."

"Stay the hell away from tumblr, MySpace is a wasteland, Facebook is only to be used by the tech guys, YouTube is half-good, half-idiotic, and Google is my best frenemy," Dean recited.

"Perfect," Cas said proudly and kissed Dean as a reward for his patience. "And did you seriously not know any of that before or were you just playing dumb so I could play teacher?"

Dean raised an eyebrow and smiled with one side of his mouth. "Which do you think?"

"I think you're legitimately twenty years behind in technology," Cas said and nodded.

"You'd be right to think that," Dean grinned. "Sammy's the tech-savvy one in this family, not me. I was too busy having a life in high school to spend time around computers."

Cas rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Dean, whatever."

"Don't you 'whatever' me," Dean said, kissing Cas one more time and standing. "It's true. Anyway. Soundcheck?"

Cas glanced at the clock on the wall of the bus and mentally added and subtracted hours for the timezones they'd passed through. "In a few minutes, probably."

"Let's go, then. Better early than late, or however the saying goes."

They left the bus soon after and hit the streets of Jackson, Cas looking around cautiously to confirm no one was watching and eventually reaching down very slowly to take Dean's hand in his.

Dean jumped, startled, and looked down at his fingers, intertwined with Cas's. "Hand-holding, eh?"

"Hand-holding," Cas said, suddenly unsure of himself. "You... did say you wanted that, right?"

"Absolutely," Dean said, gripping Cas's hand a little tighter. "Just not something I'm really used to, is all." He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Cas's cheek. "I'm liking it a lot already."

They walked to the concert space in relative silence, hands swinging between them. Once or twice, they caught a glimpse of a techie or of a fan and hid in dark corners or alleys, releasing hands and holding their breaths for powerful fear of recognition. Fans, Cas had seen, could be pretty aggressive if pressed, and it was best they didn't risk being seen.

And being seen holding hands, especially.

They made it to the hall without being seen- a complete surprise- and settled backstage, entering a few seconds apart to avoid the suspicion of others. There was something incredibly childish about kissing when no one was looking and holding hands under tables, and Cas felt himself degenerating back into a blushing high-schooler.

And was loving every minute of it.

The concert went relatively well- Cas and Dean had decided before it that there would be no more onstage flirtations or love songs unless the situation absolutely required it. Cas privately wished it wasn't so, but respected Dean's desire to leave the fans out of their relationship.

Dean was exhausted after the show, and though he was trying very hard to conceal that, he was failing miserably. He could barely walk and was supporting himself so heavily on Cas that Cas, too, was having trouble walking- staggering with every step. They almost didn't make it to the bus, for Dean seemed to gain weight with every lurch forward.

Cas somehow liked being the strong one. He'd always been seen as weak or "sensitive" in relationships with women, and it was odd, now that he was with Dean, to be the guiding force. He was shorter than Dean, yes, but emotionally stronger. And he wasn't yet sure if that was a good thing or not.

Although he certainly did enjoy having a very sleepy Dean draped over him.

"Here we go," Cas groaned, and gently laid Dean down onto the bunk. "Blanket?" he asked, beginning to pull Dean's shoes off.

"Yes, please," Dean murmured, already half-asleep. "Thank... you..." He yawned. "Thank you, Cas."

"Sure thing," Cas said, covering Dean with the blanket and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Sleep well."

Dean was out a moment later, and Cas wrote for a few more hours before falling asleep in the front room, laptop still casting a glow onto his face.

Caring after rock stars who were your boyfriend was, apparently, even more tiring than just caring for normal ones.


	12. Memphis

**Ooh, God, this is late.**

**Mmm. I'm really, really sorry. I just got lazy on the day I was actually supposed to update and then procrastinated and put it off- and the whole thing is ridiculous, actually, considering I've written up to chapter 14.**

**I'm afraid updates will be slow, because I'm stuck. Chapter 14 is supposed to be all dramatic and it's hard to write; also, I started school, and I've been having homework and stuff, blah.**

**Anyway, enjoy some nice, mindless fluff with minor plot development in this chapter!**

**And again, I'm really very sorry for the delay.**

**Please review if you enjoy, please review if you don't enjoy- I just wanna hear your thoughts on this, oh readers, so I can get vague ideas of what should happen in the future for our wacky protagonists.**

**And without further ado...**

* * *

"Cas, wake up, we're going to the Gibson Guitar Factory."

"Wha-"

Cas woke up with a start, finding a blurry Dean drifting around in front of him.

"Come on. Put your coat on. Let's go."

"Dean, what the hell? I just woke up and-"

"And let's go before it gets mobbed!"

Cas blinked and his eyesight focused. Dean was extending Cas's trench coat out towards him and Cas grabbed Dean's forearm. "Stop. Explain."

Dean rolled his eyes. "The Gibson Guitar Factory. In Memphis. We're in Memphis. Vera's a Gibson. I wish to see where she was made. And how cool would it be if I played at tonight's concert with a guitar right from here? Like, a new one?"

"Dean, you have, like, ten guitars already," Cas said, groaning and sitting up. "And what ungodly hour even is it?"

"It's seven in the morning."

"You slept for literally six hours, Dean. This is madness."

"I've done more with less! Look, I made you coffee. Come on." Dean reached out and grabbed a paper cup from the table. "Now, please? Let's go?"

Cas rolled his eyes and accepted the coffee. "Is it important to you that I accompany you to this museum place?"

"Factory," Dean corrected, "and yes. It'd be so much more memorable if you went along. Please, Cas?"

Cas sighed. "And you just had to do that whiny thing where you scrunch up your nose, didn't you? Fine, I'll go. Just let me wake up a little more first."

Dean practically cheered and was suddenly flying around the bus's front room, collecting assorted things. "Here's your laptop... and your charger... and your-"

"Dean, stop," Cas said, sipping the coffee in amusement. "I can pack my own things. You're doing it wrong, anyway."

"Oh. Really?" Dean asked, face falling, as he looked helplessly at the items in his hands.

"Don't look at me like that," Cas said, trying not to feel guilty. "Come here."

Dean obeyed and sat next to Cas, green eyes still full of sadness.

"Kiss it better?" Cas asked hopefully, setting the coffee back down.

Dean grinned, face lightening instantly. "Sure!"

Cas kissed him slowly, not having the energy yet to throw himself into it completely. "You've had coffee, too, I see."

"Yep."

They kissed for a few more minutes, savouring the taste of the rather excellent coffee on each other's tongues, and then Dean pulled away, offering Cas the coat again. "Okay, all better. Now the Factory?"

Cas rolled his eyes. "Fine." He reached out for the coat and stood, sliding it on. "What time is soundcheck or whatever?"

"We got three hours," Dean said, almost bouncing up and down in excitement.

"And we still have to eat breakfast."

Dean frowned. "Shut up, Cas, and let me have my fun."

Cas smiled in endearment. "Okay, let's go. Lead the way."

Dean grabbed Cas's hand and pulled him out of the bus, dropping the hand once they met Sam and Gordon by the tech bus. "No Ash?" Dean asked Sam.

"Nope. He's pretty worn out after all the malfunctions last night."

"I didn't notice any malfunctions," Cas said, eyebrow raised.

"Exactly," Sam sighed. "He worked pretty hard."

"Not bad," Dean and Cas said in unison and smiled at each other warmly before quickly looking away, Cas blushing slightly.

"Shall we?" Gordon suggested softly, gesturing in the general area of the Factory.

They set off, and spent a good two hours staring at the various new guitars, vintage models, and at the assembly line of guitars being made. Sam and Cas practically had to drag Dean away by force when he fell in love with a shiny new acoustic for eight and a half thousand dollars. He complained, but eventually saw reason and left it alone.

Once they had returned to the bus, Dean threw his arms around Cas. "Thanks for taking me."

"You're welcome," Cas chuckled. "It was my pleasure."

"Though you should have let me buy that guitar."

"No way."

Cas's stomach growled loudly and Dean laughed. "Breakfast, then?"

"Absolutely."

Dean pulled away and grinned. "Surprise!" He turned and opened the mini-fridge, pulling out a small paper bag. "I got us some."

"Really?" Cas said, gingerly grasping the bag.

"Really." Dean planted his hands on his hips, extremely proud of himself. "You're welcome."

It was a croissant and a turnover. Cas smiled. "Thanks, Dean."

"The turnover is for me, by the way."

"I figured," Cas said, reaching into the bag and pulling out the pastry. "Here."

"And you can make yourself coffee, I think there's still some more instant left." Dean sat on the couch. "Oh, and I'm still waiting for more praise for being a responsible boyfriend and getting you breakfast."

"I'm very grateful," Cas said, sitting next to Dean and pressing a swift kiss to his lips. "You're wonderful, Dean."

"Aw, shucks," Dean said almost bashfully. "It's just breakfast."

"You make no sense sometimes," Cas laughed, and kissed him again.

Suddenly, a knock on the bus door sent Dean scrambling upwards and hiding into the bunk area, spilling the cup of coffee all over Cas as he went.

"God _dammit_," Cas said angrily after yelping in pain, reaching for a napkin. "Uh, come in."

It was Jo, who regarded Cas with amusement as he mopped away at the large coffee stain blooming over his knees. "Where's Dean?"

"Good morning to you, too," Cas said brightly. "Dean- er- Dean just-"

"Just woke up. Good mornin'," Dean slurred, and yawned, rubbing the back of his neck and appearing from the bunk area, now just in a t-shirt and jeans with no belt on. His hair was mussed, his eyes unfocused, feet bare- he looked for all the world as though he'd just woken up. Cas stared at him, jaw dropped. When Jo's eyes moved from him, Dean winked at Cas and then resumed his sleepy look. "Wassup, Jo?"

Cas, with a sharp pang of jealousy, noted a hungry look in Jo's eyes as she looked Dean appraisingly up and down. "Not much, Dean," she said, voice suddenly breathier and huskier than normal. Cas stifled his eye-roll and continued listening. "Just wanted to tell you you're doing another meet-and-greet today."

Dean nodded and flopped down next to Cas on the couch. "Am I? Didn't know that. Thanks, Jo."

"You're welcome, Dean," Jo said prettily and flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder as she flounced out of the bus.

There was silence for a few seconds, and then Dean burst out laughing, reaching for more napkins for Cas. "Well, that was fun."

"_Did _you know there was a meet-and-greet today?" Cas asked, shifting a little so Dean could reach more of his knees.

"Sure did," Dean said, smiling broadly. "Was I convincing, d'you think?"

"Scarily so," Cas said, raising an eyebrow. "Have you ever considered a career in acting?"

Dean laughed and kissed Cas once. "You're sweet. But that would require me to sell out and crash and burn first. Singers that become actors are even worse than actors that become singers."

Cas considered. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He glanced down at the coffee stain that he was now sure would never wash out. "And now I have no idea of what I'm going to wear today."

Dean winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spill on you."

"No, whatever," Cas said quickly before Dean could feel any guiltier. "I guess I'll just have to go meet your fans pants-less."

Dean's eyes glittered mischievously. "You should wear some of mine to the show."

"Dean, no-"

"Come on. I have some pants that aren't, like, leather. I actually have normal jeans. No one'll notice. And if they do, then..." He shrugged. "We'll let them think what they want."

Cas rolled his eyes. "I thought the idea was to _not _make it super obvious."

"How is it obvious?" Dean asked, spreading his hands and rising to his feet. "We're just two guys that casually share pants, is all."

"Normal jeans?" Cas clarified after a brief pause.

"Normal jeans. No rhinestones or leopard prints or acid washes or skinnies or artful shreds," Dean promised.

"It kinda freaks me out that you know what all of those are, but alright," Cas said, shrugged, and stood.

"It's in the rockstar handbook," Dean said, grinning and grabbing a pair of what did indeed appear to be normal jeans from one of the top bunks. "Here."

Cas held them up. "Thanks, Dean."

"Sure thing, Cas."

They weren't a perfect fit, of course, but they were close enough, and Cas was very grateful that Dean had offered. It was sweet of Dean to do so- a kind gesture, almost solidifying their relationship.

Or maybe Cas was over-thinking it, and Dean was literally just lending him his pants.

The meet-and-greet was an odd experience for Castiel. Now that he was actually Dean's boyfriend- more or less- Cas felt it was okay to be as insanely jealous as he was when Dean openly and shamelessly flirted with any and all of the fans whose books and CDs he was signing. He couldn't show it, of course- someone might notice- but had to just sit there and fume silently as Dean hit on another helpless teenager. It's not like the helpless teenagers in question minded, but Cas was annoyed.

And maybe it was just his imagination acting up again, but Dean appeared to be enjoying watching Cas bristling with indignation at his side.

But the second the fan's eyes drifted to Cas with interest, Dean puffed up and did everything in his power to capture his or her attention back to him again.

Cas thought that was quite unnecessary but very cute- it was like they were having a ping-pong match of jealousy.

Dean was probably beating Cas, to be honest.

But it was his job to treat the fans the way he did, and Cas knew that. If Dean suddenly acted all cold and aloof, he'd probably lose a lot of his following. His charisma was part of what made him popular, and he shouldn't give all of that up just because he was now in a steady relationship or something like one.

Castiel still wasn't sure exactly what it was that he and Dean were to each other. "Boyfriend", Dean had called him on that night in New Orleans when they discussed it. And it seemed that way often, sure. But Cas wished Dean would decide if he wanted to be open about it or not- in some situations, like breakfast with Sam, Dean made it really obvious that they were together, but in others, such as fan meet-and-greets, he practically ignored Cas the entire time.

Cas charted this up to Dean's quirky personality- if "quirky" was really the word he wanted to use, as opposed to "unpredictable", "idiosyncratic", or "sometimes unlikeable"- and didn't think too much of it.

But still. It'd be nice to know.

Cas's train of thought was derailed by an excited feminine voice saying, "Can I get your autograph, too?"

He looked up. Standing in front of the table was a girl who looked to be in her late teens and was holding out her Dean Winchester poster- already with Dean's signature on it- to Cas with a trembling hand.

Cas frowned, confused, and took the poster and the proffered Sharpie. "Um, sure. I- I'm not anyone special, though. I'm just here. So I'm not sure who you think I am, but-"

"Oh, no, I know what I'm doing," the girl interrupted. "You're the guy from the Austin concert, right? Cas? Did you know that you're, like, Internet famous now?"

Cas raised his eyebrows and looked at Dean, who shrugged. "I didn't, actually." Deciding not to pursue his line of inquiry any further, Cas drew out a signature of sorts on the poster and handed it back to the girl.

"Thanks a lot, Cas! Bye, Dean!" she chirped and left.

"H-how did she know my name?" Cas whispered to Dean out of the side of his mouth.

"This is really creepy and I'm incredibly confused right now," Dean replied, worry on his face, but that vanished a split second later as another fan approached the table. "Hi," he said, smiling widely.

"Oh. My. God!" she said, looking from Dean to Cas. "It's you! You're Cas!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, nice to meet you, too."

"No, I mean, wow, I can't believe this is happening!" she said to Dean, beaming. "It's really great to meet you. I'm Brittany."

"Hi, Brittany," Dean said warmly. "Welcome to the show."

"Thanks a lot, Dean!" she said and looked at Cas again. "And you're Cas, right?"

"How- what-" Cas began, and then gave up. "Yes, that's me."

"Did you know that you're Internet famous?"

Cas and Dean exchanged bewildered glances. "So I've been told. W-would you mind explaining?"

"Well, after the concert thing in Austin, you got a really big fan following on tumblr and stuff and it's like a scavenger hunt contest thing, now, to see who can meet you. Because none of us was really sure if you were only there for that one concert, but it looks like you're on for the whole tour, and oh my God I can't believe I'm actually meeting _Dean _and _Cas _and-"

She continued to talk as Dean finished signing her CD, and Cas raised his eyebrows. He knew he'd regret going onstage in Austin, and now he was. Internet famous? Really? He could just picture the headlines: _"Dean Winchester gay for the boy who makes him sweat!"_ Or maybe- hopefully- it was just idiotic harmless things, as most things on the Internet were.

Or maybe he was a meme, or something, God forbid.

Brittany finished explaining and grinned. "Can I get a picture of you guys? I promised my followers I'd-"

"Yeah, sure," Dean said, voice chipper despite the fact that his eyes showed exhaustion. Brittany raised a camera and, almost instinctually, Cas and Dean shifted so they were closer together, tilting their heads towards each other to fit into the shot, and smiled in sync. Brittany made a delighted squealing sound and took a picture. After she'd thanked them both profusely, she left and Dean looked at Cas, face full of intense concern, before calling up the next fan (who, mercifully, had no idea who Cas was).

There were only a few more girls who recognized Cas, and some were too shy to say anything about it, so the rest of the meet-and-greet went relatively without incident. Once it was over, Dean looked at the clock on the wall and counted on his fingers.

"We've got... ten minutes or so before soundcheck."

Cas nodded. "Nifty."

In a fluid motion, Dean stood and grabbed Cas up from his chair. "Let's go hide somewhere until then."

"O-okay-"

They found a small passageway, hidden from the main hall by a few stacks of folding chairs, and sat on the cold stone floor, cross-legged, across from each other.

"First of all," Dean said, smiling, "you're really cute when you're jealous." He leaned forward and kissed the disgruntled expression off Cas's face. "Second of all, I don't like this whole Internet-famous thing." The last was said with a frown.

"What, are you worried your boyfriend will attract more of a fan following than you?" Cas asked, smirking to conceal his own worry.

"No. Yes. Shut up," Dean said impatiently. "That's not the point. The point is, what are we going to do about it?"

Cas sighed. "Well, it depends on what the Internet is saying about us. To be honest, I don't really want to go find out. That girl mentioned tumblr, and like I said-"

"Stay the hell away," Dean said grimly. "Got it."

"Exactly." Cas ran a hand through his hair. "So what do we do now? Do we say no to all the people who ask about us? Do we act like none of it ever happened, what?"

Dean shrugged. "I'm fine with anything at this point, really."

"Even the fans finding out?" Cas asked incredulously.

Dean twitched up a corner of his mouth. "I'm with you, aren't I? You're my boyfriend, Cas. My semi-awkwardly-not-quite-platonic-best-friend-but-also-boyfriend. What's the use in hiding it? I mean, it's not like we should go around dressed in pink and holding hands and make out on top of people and shove our relationship in their face, but if they ask, we shouldn't lie. Right? I mean, I could be wrong, but... that's how I think it should be, anyway." He finished and there was a bit of a silence.

"So, I'm your boyfriend," Cas clarified eventually, just to have that one extra layer of surety.

"I thought we established that on, like, the first day of being together," Dean said with a cocky smile.

"Just checking."

"So... are we good?" Dean asked hopefully.

"Yeah, we're good," Cas said, smiling and leaning in to kiss Dean chastely on the lips. "I think that's a brilliant plan."

"Great."

"Did you come up with it all by yourself?"

"Sure did," Dean said proudly and grinned. "See? I'm not all idiotic."

"Right. Only mostly," Cas said, kissing him again.

Dean rolled his eyes, pushed Cas away gently, and stood. "Should we go?"

"Did- did I hurt your feelings?" Cas asked cautiously, standing, too.

Dean smirked. "You're too cute for me to ever be able to take you seriously. You didn't hurt my feelings, Cas. I don't think you can."

"I thought I have. In the past," Cas reminded Dean, eyebrows raised.

"Well, yes, fine, and maybe you could before we got together," Dean amended. "I don't think you can anymore. But, uh, let's not test that theory."

"Good idea."

And after another quick kiss, they left the hidden nook and made their way to the backstage area.

The second they reached it, Dean was almost physically pulled away from Cas by makeup people, tech guys, and assorted other managers. Cas felt he would never grow used to this- to having to share his Dean with thousands of other people- but supposed he could put up with it if it meant being with Dean.

But then again, what wouldn'the put up with to be with Dean?

Soundcheck went relatively quickly that day, and the concert was there before Cas even noticed soundcheck was over. Dean appeared to be quite excited to be playing in such a legendary city- a good portion of his usual speeches to the crowd was full of him being a complete fanboy over Memphis.

It was pretty adorable, for lack of a better word.

The concert ended, and Dean, as was now his usual way, wasted no words on Cas or anyone as he grabbed his jacket from backstage and pulled Cas out of the hall back towards the bus.

"You looked like you were having a good time," Cas commented as they rushed up the stairs leading into the bus.

Dean smirked. "Well, I wasn't. I usually never have good times at my shows."

Cas stopped, mouth agape. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. They're dreary and I can never wait for them to be over."

"But- oh, my God, my whole life is a lie," Cas said, still horrified. "I was so impressed- I thought, wow, Dean is such a performer, and has the best times at his shows, no matter how many times he does them, and that was part of why I found you so appealing, and-"

"Wait, really?" Dean interrupted, eyes full of concern. "And now- oh, man, are you breaking up with me? Because I'm not what you thought I was?"

Cas backtracked. "No." He leaned forward and gently kissed Dean. "I'm just trying to adjust myself to the fact that you aren't quite the god of performing that you appear to be."

"Sorry to be a disappointment," Dean grumbled. "I thought you knew. Wasn't it obvious?"

"Absolutely not," Cas said seriously. "It always looks like you're having the time of your life onstage. And you're always so engaged and energetic and in the moment and- all of that's just an act? Really?"

"Most of it," Dean said, eyebrows raised. "Dude, almost all performing musicians are like that."

"That- I had no idea. That's crazy." He looked at Dean, who had a lost expression on his face. Sensing that this could turn bad pretty quickly, Cas said, "But I like you anyway," and kissed Dean again.

"You better," Dean said and grinned. "So we're good?"

"We're good. Even though my whole life is a lie, like I said."

"Sorry," Dean said, eyes huge and full of genuine regret.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Cas said, taking Dean in his arms. "You know I can't resist your puppy eyes."

"Well, good. That was the point," Dean said, a smile in his voice.

They talked little that night- Dean had used a considerable amount of his energy up on the concert- and fell asleep relatively quickly.

And Cas dreamt of Dean, and Dean dreamt of Cas, and all was well.


	13. Atlanta

**Wow, it's been a while.**

**Also, I have a bit of news- I've (surprise, surprise) abandoned this story. I have, however, written up to chapter 15, so I'll post what I have and then tell y'all what I had planned for the ending or whatever. But I guess I kinda lost interest, plus I've been doing a lot of writing on a lot of other AU's that I'm much more emotionally invested in.**

**I'm really sorry. I know it sucks when stuff like this happens- but maybe I'll pick this story back up someday.**

**So anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please review!**

* * *

Days after day after day went by, as did city after city after city. St. Louis, Indianapolis, and Louisville passed in a homogenous blur of kissing in hidden corners, flirting in front of Sam, meet-and-greets, breakfasts, and concerts. It was a routine of sorts, one that Cas appreciated. Nothing notable happened on those days, and Cas was quite alright with that. Better for nothing bad to happen and to have peaceful days of happiness than to have a life full of excitement and misery.

He awoke in Atlanta, mentally going through a list of major attractions that Dean would surely want to attend. That took him a few minutes, and because Dean was such a child sometimes, he'd doubtless want to go to all of them.

Cas sighed fondly, threw the covers off, and stood. Dean's bunk was empty, and Cas frowned, glancing at his watch. It was almost seven in the morning, and Dean was usually up around nine or so.

Cas padded to the front room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He found Dean there, his back to Cas, fully clothed and hunched over the small table.

"G'morning," Cas said, voice slurring slightly because of his having awoken so recently. "What'cha up to?"

Not receiving an answer, Cas walked around and sat across from Dean, only to see that Dean was engrossed in reading something on Cas's laptop. Cas frowned. "What are you doing on my comp-"

"Holy _shit_, Cas, these are _really_ good," Dean whispered, eyes huge. "I mean- I had no idea you could write like this. I mean oh, my _God_, Cas this is- this is-"

"Are you reading the article?" Cas said, suddenly panicking. "You shouldn't be looking at tha-"

"Shut up a minute and let me read," Dean said, waving an impatient hand at Cas to silence him.

"No!" Cas said firmly, rising from the couch and snatching the computer away from a protesting Dean. "I said you couldn't read it. Why would you-"

"It was open when I got here," Dean pouted. "Give it back."

"Dean," Cas huffed, "you shouldn't have read it. I told you why. You have biases, and-"

"I didn't read your precious article," Dean spat. "I only read the little story things you wrote about your childhood. And your history with musicians and PR agents and other tours. Okay?"

"O-okay- wait, what?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "There were a bunch of documents already open. Like, tidbits. That had nothing to do with me or any of my staff or this tour or whatever. Just things. I was just reading those. Not the article."

Cas, still wary, examined the computer screen. It appeared Dean had been telling the truth- open were the brief sketches Cas had written using no brainpower at all about his days as an awkward teenager and his days as an awkward middle-schooler and his days as an awkward child. Nothing he'd really put any effort into. "You... you liked these?" Cas asked, scrolling through them, eyebrows raised. They looked pretty rough. God knows they'd need a few days' worth of editing before even being candidates for being shown to Balthazar or anyone at the newspaper.

"Absolutely," Dean said, suddenly very serious. "I didn't know you could write like that. I mean, there was that one article about that one thing that I read a few years ago, but that was _nothing_ compared to these."

Cas felt a blush creep across his face. "Stop it."

"I'm not kidding!" Dean insisted, sliding over so he was sitting closer to Cas. "They are amazing. _You _are amazing."

"Stop it!"

"No," Dean said, pressing a kiss to Cas's cheek. "I will not stop it until you appreciate how brilliant you are."

Cas grumbled and turned his head so his lips met Dean's. He pulled away a second later, saying, "I think you're ridiculous. But thank you, I guess."

Dean grinned and grabbed Cas's shirt front, pulling him back in for another kiss. "Mmm. _You're _ridiculous," he said, moving back a millimeter to mumble those words against Cas's lips.

"Stop," Cas said, laughing, and reaching for the computer to slam it shut. "Ask next time, okay? I'm fine with you reading my stuff. It's just—I would prefer if you asked."

"Sure thing," Dean drawled, rolling his eyes and leaning back, hands behind his head. "Paranoid."

"Not paranoid, just cautious."

"Come on! What's the worst that could happen?" Dean complained. "So I read the article. What then?"

"Then," Cas began with a huff, "you would be able to say 'hey, you should write about this!' or, 'hey, that's unfair, you shouldn't have written that in there!' and stuff like that. And I'm supposed to be writing this article just based on my own experiences, and having you do that to it would be letting you take it over and bias me. So let's not do that, okay?"

Dean frowned. "That's stupid."

"It's reasonable."

"And when have you ever known me to be reasonable?" Dean asked with a dare-devil grin.

Cas sighed, leaning his head against Dean's shoulder. "I guess that's true."

"But if it really means all that much to you," Dean said, pressing a kiss to the top of Cas's head, "I won't read it. Promise."

"Okay," Cas said with a small smile.

"Okay. So we're good?"

"We're good."

"Fantabulous," Dean said, ruffling Cas's hair once before standing up and stretching. "Get dressed, the concert's early today."

"How early?" Cas asked, frowning.

Dean screwed up his eyes, remembering, but gave up after a second. "I dunno. Early. Like, matinee or something. It's a total pain."

"Aw, boo hoo," Cas grumbled, standing up, too. "Is there breakfast?"

Dean's eyes flickered with amusement. "Someone's getting a little dependent, looks like."

"Whatever," Cas said, with a sinking feeling at hearing such true words.

"No, no problem," Dean laughed, reaching behind him for a small paper bag. "Sammy brought us some. I ate mine already, though. You slept kinda late."

"Did not," Cas protested, taking the bag from Dean. "You just got up early."

"Dude, you seen the time?" Dean asked, pointing up at the clock. "Time-zones changed around, but it's, like, eleven right now."

"Eleven?" Cas repeated, a trace of panic in his voice. "You sure?"

"Positive," Dean said, raising an eyebrow. "Why, what's at eleven?"

"I was supposed to call my boss at ten and tell him how things were going with the article," Cas said, sinking back onto the couch and resting his face in his hands with a soft sound of irritation.

"Hey, no big," Dean said, sitting next to him and placing a warm hand on his shoulder. "Call him now."

"He'll skin me alive."

"Over the phone?" Dean asked, smiling with eyes crinkling at the corners. "Doubt it."

"Not like you would know. You haven't met Balthazar." Cas raised his head and ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of an excuse to use on his boss. "Also, you don't have a boss you need to report to almost weekly."

"True," Dean said, "but I do know a thing or two about avoiding punishment."

"Troublemaker in high school?" Cas asked, a corner of his mouth tugging up.

"As I live and breathe, Cas."

An image of a teenage Dean mouthing off to teachers and principals brought a full smile to Cas's face, and he reached for the bag of food again, deciding that Balthazar could wait some more.

Breakfast went without incident, and the phone call to Balthazar that followed went surprisingly well, considering Dean spent the entire thing tracing up and down Cas's jawline with a teasing finger. They left for sound-check soon after, Dean apparently having read up on the features of this particular concert hall earlier and being really excited on some things that were promised.

"Full dressing rooms, Cas!" he said, beaming and pulling Cas along by his sleeve behind him.

"So?" Cas asked, secretly not minding the attention.

"Soooo," Dean said, looking back at Cas and rolling his eyes fondly, "they're very private. It's a great system. Real secure."

"So?" Cas repeated, having a vague idea of what Dean meant and feeling a rush of heat trickle up his neck at the thought.

"And no one can get in without a key," Dean said, reaching into his pocket with his free hand and pulling out a tiny silver keychain. "And I've got one of the only two. So no one can get in 'less we let them."

Cas felt the heat rise to his face. "You saying what I think you're saying?"

"Let's find out," Dean breathed, shooting a cocky smile Cas's way before releasing his sleeve and using the small key to unlock the inconspicuous grey door. He flicked on the lights inside once Cas had gone in and inhaled sharply—there were lights _everywhere_. Above the mirrors, mostly, just like on Broadway. Any performer's dream dressing room.

Cas barely had time to set down his laptop and form a questioning expression with his face before Dean spun him around and pushed him down into the wooden chair that oh-so-conveniently was already pulled out from in front of a mirror.

"Dean, what—"

"Shhh."

Dean stood to Cas's side and swung a leg over Cas's lap, effectively straddling him and more or less sitting in his lap. He wound his hands behind Cas's head and sat like that for just a second. It was an oddly feminine gesture, and Cas half-smiled, wondering which of Dean's ex-girlfriends he'd picked the movements up from, but those ideas vanished from his head as Dean bent his head down; kissed the smile from his face and sucked the thoughts clear out of his head. Searing heat tore through Cas's body, gathering low in his belly as the kiss turned into something more, as Dean hooked a finger in Cas's tie, slowly loosening the crumpled silk from its knot. Cas slid a hand up Dean's muscled back, clamping him in closer, enjoying the feel of friction through layers of cloth everywhere, reveling in the warmth of Dean's body. Dean made a small sound of content and arched his back, pressing himself even more against Cas, biting down on Cas's lower lip. At that, Cas freed his other hand from where it was trapped in between Dean's chest and his own, locking it in the back of Dean's head, the other curling up around Dean's shoulder. Dean pulled his mouth away for a second to gasp against Cas's mouth either for air or to gain an ounce of self-control, soon returning to the kiss and grabbing at the tie with both hands, almost using it as an anchor. Cas moved his hand down lower along Dean's back, finding the hem of his t-shirt and sliding a few fingers under it, rewarded with a line of burning hot skin. Dean shivered and pulled at the hair on the back of Cas's head that he still had clamped in between his fingers, working along Cas's mouth with his lips, teeth, tongue, everything. A vague thought flashed through Cas's mind—_I hope Dean locked the door_—but that, too, was gone an instant later as Dean made a sound almost like a purr and brushed along the corner of Cas's mouth with his teeth. Cas sighed, melting up against Dean, and—

The door swung open.

There was a screeching sound and Dean pulled away again, eyes—green barely visible, lust-blown pupils taking up almost the entire iris—wide in panic. He turned his head to the left, to where the door was, and there stood Sam, hand empty after having dropped his coffee onto the floor just outside the dressing room, where it spilled out and gave off gentle curls of steam. Sam's mouth opened and closed as he choked over words he couldn't figure out how to say, but after a few seconds of that, he squeaked out, "Sorry," and dashed out of the room as fast as he could, slamming the door behind him.

With a strangled gasp, Dean slid off Cas's lap into a standing position, smoothing down his shirt, and Cas shifted uncomfortably in the chair, suddenly cold without Dean's body heat to warm him.

"So, um-" Dean was short of breath, mouth a little swollen, hair mussed. "I- sorry."

"What for?" Cas asked, mind still reeling a little as he tried to restore oxygen to his blood stream.

"For jumping you like that with no warning." To his credit, Dean really did look a little sorry, which was surprising, because he really didn't have too much to be sorry for.

"Absolutely no problem at all," Cas said, mouth twitching up into a smile.

Dean sighed and leaned onto one of the counters, hanging his head. "And Sam knows now."

"Hell of a way to find out."

"Right?" Dean looked back to Cas, still looking extremely guilty. "And that means I'm going to have to, like, talk about with him, and-" He shuddered. "I'd really rather not."

"Well, we knew this was going to become an issue someday," Cas said placidly, waiting for his pulse to settle.

Dean turned his back to the counter and slid down, ending up sitting on the floor, one leg tucked up under him, the other stretched out to the front. "Yeah, but not at a moment like this."

Cas shrugged. "I guess there could have been a better time to find out your brother has a boyfriend, but still- would you rather have to actually tell him?"

Dean shuddered. "To be honest, probably not." He considered for a second. "I guess you're right. This is better. Now he knows and all I have to do is say 'this is how it is, and if you have a problem, I couldn't care less.'"

"Well, there you go."

"Yeah."

"So..." Cas began after a few seconds of silence. "We're good?"

Dean leapt to his feet. "Of course we're good, Cas. Oh, and, advice," Dean said wryly. "Ignore me when I get like this. All whiny and bitchy. Just don't humour me."

"You're not being whiny and bitchy," Cas contradicted. "You're acting perfectly reasonable, given the situation."

Dean laughed, soft and low. "Have I ever told you that I love the way you talk?"

Cas froze in place, trying not to think too much into Dean's casual words. "How do I talk?" he asked, lips barely moving. _He didn't mean it, he didn't mean it, stop thinking that he did, because he didn't. He can't love me. He can't and he doesn't._

"You talk the way you write, and there ain't many people that can do that," Dean said, walking over and pressing a kiss to Cas's forehead. "It's just you. And it's great."

"Are you saying that I use a lot of big words or something?" Cas clarified, eyes twinkling.

"Pretty much," Dean admitted, and they smiled at each other for a heartbeat or two.

"Well, you talk nothing like the way you sing, so..."

Dean tossed his head back and laughed. "That would be really weird. If I did. So it's probably best that I don't, yeah?"

Cas shrugged. "I've always wanted to live life as a musical. I don't know."

Dean arched up an eyebrow. "Breaking into song-and-dance routines at random moments?" Cas nodded. "Hate to break it to ya, kiddo-" Dean took another step forward and sat side-saddle in Cas's lap, joining his hands behind Cas's neck, but in a much more innocent way than the previous time- "but it's kinda overrated."

"I think you're ridiculous," Cas stated flatly. "Haven't you ever seen a Bollywood movie?"

Dean thought for a second. "I haven't, because I'm not a freaky nerd like you." He ducked his head and caught Cas's ready-to-frown mouth with his own to show that he was joking. Dean pulled away after a second and added, "At least, not that I can remember. Explain."

Cas huffed, leaning his forehead forward to rest against Dean's. "Usually a standard boy meets girl, boy gets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back plot. Really badly acted and the plot is really dumb, always. But what makes them notable is that they break out into these huge dance numbers with, like, dozens of people every few minutes. Scarily synchronized dancing in really brightly coloured costumes and loud, jangly music, and-" And suddenly Dean's mouth was on his, kissing the words away. Cas allowed this for a few moments, but soon pulled back. "You know," he began, mouth twisting into a reluctant smile, "you could have just said you didn't care and told me to shut up. That would have been fine, too."

"Wait, no," Dean protested. "That's not what that was."

"What was it, then?"

"You're just really cute when you get excited about something. Your eyes were all glowy and your cheeks got all red and I just couldn't stop myself." Dean flushed slightly and looked away, embarrassed by this confession.

"I'm cute," Cas repeated.

"Too damn cute for your own good."

"I don't think I'm cute. I'm supposed to be all business-ey and professional and literary and not cute at all," Cas said with a slight frown.

"Well, sucks," Dean interrupted. "Because you're really quite adorable." He reached up with one of his hands and ruffled Cas's hair into peaks. "Look. You're scruffy and you have this really expressive hair and you're cute when you're jealous and you're cute when you're enthusiastic and you wrinkle your nose when you laugh and you're just... really cute."

Cas groaned and laid his forehead to Dean's chest in concession. "Whatever."

"And you know I'm going to remind you of it at _least _once a day, now that you've disagreed with me about it."

Cas lifted his head so his eyes met Dean's. "Don't."

"How will you stop me?" Dean breathed, not even blinking.

Instead of answering, Cas tilted his head up once more infinitesimally and pressed an open mouth to Dean's, who reacted instantly, shifting in Cas's lap so he was more comfortably angled and twisting the fingers of one hand into Cas's hair. However, this time around the kiss was more chaste- slower, warmer, less about frenzied lust and more about emotional connection. Dean pulled away after a sweet, long second, and, after running a hand all the way through Cas's hair from the back to the front, stands.

And while he was looking at Dean standing there, eyes green and bright, lips even pinker than usual with kisses, easy happiness written along every inch of his body, it occurred to Castiel Novak that he is in love with Dean Winchester.

He's in love with his kindness, he's in love with his thoughtfulness, he's in love with the way Dean smiles and his eyes crinkle at the corners. He's in love with his bad puns, he's in love with the feel of his hands, he's in love with the way Dean looks at him when Cas doesn't understand his reference. He's in love with the freckles, he's in love with the bowlegs, he's in love with the dumb beat-up leather jacket that hugs his frame so perfectly. He's in love with his energy. He's in love with the slimness of his wrists. He's in love with the way his skin tastes like honey. He's in love with the way his voice sounds when he's just woken up and blinked blearily at Cas, eyes warming instantly and lips curling up into a smile just at the first glance of him.

He's in love.

But instead of voicing any of this, Castiel Novak sat there, grinning like an idiot, eyes tearing up just a tiny bit. He didn't realise Dean had been calling his name until Dean frowned and leaned down, waving a hand in front of Cas's eyes. "Um, Earth to Cas?"

Cas jumped. "Yeah? What?"

Dean straightened, eyebrows still pulled together a little bit. "You alright?"

"Fine," Cas replied instantly. "Really, really great. Really."

"'Cause you were kinda totally zoning out on me just then. Did you hear a single word I said?"

Cas dropped his eyes to the ground and shook his head, almost bashfully. Dean let out a low hum of a laugh and said, "Doesn't matter. God, you're such a cutie."

And Cas almost blurted it out then- _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou_- but bit his tongue and didn't. Because he didn't know how Dean would react. He'd probably run away, hide, never talk to Cas again, because Dean was infamous for his commitment issues. The second the l-word was brought out, Dean ran. That's what both the papers and his ex-girlfriends said about him. And Dean himself said so in his songs. He didn't do long-term. And that scared Cas a lot, because he was so, so, so in love with Dean and knew it had to end at some point.

And he didn't know what he would do after it did.

So he just smiled a dopey smile at Dean, deciding not to argue Dean's point about cuteness, and waited.

"So," Dean said abruptly after a few seconds of warm silence. "I, uh-" He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and glanced at the door out of the corner of his eye. "I do have a concert to play, y'know..."

Cas jumped to his feet. "Right, yeah, yeah, of course you do. Sorry- sorry for keeping you this long."

Dean laughed out loud and brought a hand to either side of Cas's face, pulling him in and kissing him hard. "Don't get awkward with me. You don't need to. I was just saying- I'd really love to stay here with you forever, but I really do need to go soundcheck and stuff."

"Then go," Cas said, smiling against Dean's cheek. "I really do need to write more. Maybe even interview Sam or something. So you go do your thing and I'll go do mine."

"Okay. Okay." Dean pressed another kiss to Cas's mouth and took a step back, before frowning and raising a questioning finger. "Wait. Interview Sam?"

"Yes, interview Sam," Cas repeated with a raised eyebrow. "I am writing an article on you, y'know. I need stories about your childhood and stuff."

Dean's eyes widened in panic. "That sounds like a really bad idea."

"Dean-"

"You can ask me. You can ask me about my childhood and stuff. Don't ask Sam."

"But-"

"Please."

Cas stopped cold at that, seeing the look in Dean's eyes. "I- alright, Dean. If you really don't want me to talk to Sam about it, I won't."

"Thanks."

Cas really, really, desperately wanted to ask Dean a million questions as to why, exactly, asking Sam was a bad idea, but the closed-off look in those green eyes advised him against it. "So. Soundcheck and stuff?" he reminded after a second of awkward silence.

"Yeah." Dean took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Cas, kissing him in the area by his ear and making an apologetic sound. "Sorry I'm acting all impossible and stuff."

"You're _not _acting impossible," Cas said, holding Dean closer. "And even if you were, I wouldn't mind."

Dean pulled back to shoot Cas a warning smile. "Don't say things you don't mean, Cas, you might accidentally open floodgates you don't want opened." And with that, he disentangled himself from the warmth of Cas's arms for good, picking his jacket up off the floor where he'd left it and pulling the door open. "After you."

"Thanks," Cas said, laughing a little and going into the hallway first. Dean locked the door behind them, pocketed the key, and they set off- not quite holding hands, but still pretty close together. Shoulders rubbing and hands brushing each other every couple of seconds.

The concert went well, just as they always did. Now that Cas knew about Dean's performance secret, he was less impressed by the energy and more impressed by the acting skills. Because if Dean really was bored out of his skull by the routine of being a rockstar, it really didn't show at all.

When they returned to the bus after the show, Cas checked the tour schedule at Dean's request, only to find that the next city they'd be visiting was Jacksonville, Florida. Dean, of course, complained heavily about returning to the state where he lived, claiming that would be far more work than play, but stopped after a while. Instead, they talked about Dean's childhood a little- only the happy parts, of course- and Cas jotted down hazy notes in the dark.

They fell asleep when Dean was mid-sentence and Cas was mid-word, and dreamt of nothing at all.


	14. Jacksonville, part one

**Chapter 14, as promised. I only have chapter 15 left to post, and then... nothing.**

**Again, I am really sorry for my inability to stay committed. I've got other writin' stuff going on, and school is a bitch, so...**

**Anyway, I may pick this one back up again once all that is done. One of my lovely readers gave me a totally brilliant idea, so if I become inspired again, it is highly possible that I could write more if I am encouraged to do so!**

**In the meantime, please enjoy chapter 14, and even though it ends on a vague cliffhanger, I promise to post ch15 soon. Please review!**

* * *

"Good morning, sunshine."

"What time is it?"

"You're the one with a watch right now."

Cas grumbled and peered through a sleepy eye at his wrist. "It's too early to be awake. That's what time it is."

"Aw, come on, rise and shine."

Cas buried his head under a pillow and growled.

"So," Dean said, throwing the blanket off of him and sitting up. "Boyfriend." He wrinkled his nose ever so slightly. "God, it's weird calling you that. But... hell, I like it." Dean grinned. "Anyway, Boyfriend, welcome to the horrible, hot, humid, _home _state of Florida." He sighed and stood. "Ain't no place like it."

"Why do you hate it so much, Dean?" Cas asked, pulling his head out from under the pillow and tilting it to the side inquisitively. "Why not just move away?"

Dean sighed again. "I don't _hate _it. I just... it's not my favourite. I just live there, right? Don't have to like it to live there. And I don't wanna be here because this tour was supposed to be about getting away."

Cas noticed a slight uncomfortableness in Dean's eyes and realized what was going on. "You have exes here."

"Lots. Damn, Cas, you read me like a book," Dean said, grinning. He sobered and looked at Cas seriously. "Yeah. Big, big exes. Ones I try my hardest to stay away from. And I usually don't see them at all at home, but they've given their words to come to this concert. So. They'll be there. Maybe even doing the backstage pass thing, 'cause I probably gave them an all-access card thing in a fit of madness in the middle of our relationship."

"Oh. Sorry," Cas said, standing and wrapping an arm around Dean's shoulders, pulling him in close. "Did one of them dump you?" he whispered right into Dean's ear.

Dean nodded and turned so his face was buried in Cas's shoulder. He sighed and wrapped his arms around Cas, and they stood there like that for a little while. A private, quiet moment.

"Did you love her?" Cas suggested softly, almost afraid of the answer.

Dean made a small, sleepy sound against Cas's shoulder and eventually muttered, "Thought I did. And then the evil bitch broke my heart all over the place and..." He trailed off and tightened his hold on Cas's waist.

"Shhh." Cas moved a hand up to Dean's hair, keeping him close. "I'll protect you from the big, bad meanie, okay?"

Dean pulled away and grinned, still somewhat melancholy. "Okay. Knight in shining armour."

Cas laughed, but was suddenly struck by a thought. "And hey," he said, gripping Dean's chin and lifting it so their eyes met. "Rejection is okay. For everyone. Hell, probably every single one of my past girlfriends has dumped me. So just 'cause you're Dean Winchester doesn't mean you're immune to that, alright?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Cas." He leaned up and planted a quick kiss on the tip of Cas's nose. "I'd been dumped before then. It was just this one particular breakup that was really harsh, okay?"

"Dean, didn't your past girlfriends ever tell you it wasn't a good move to talk about past relationships with them?" Cas asked, pretending to be exasperated. Dean, however, suddenly acquired the look of a kicked puppy, and Cas drew him into another embrace.

"Dean, I was kidding," Cas murmured into Dean's hair. "Only girls care about that sort of thing, okay? I really don't. So feel free to emote on me as much as you want."

"Thanks, Cassy."

"As long as you don't call me that, I mean."

Dean snorted and pulled away. "Okay, okay, fine, you don't get a cute nickname. Be that way."

"I will consent to having a cute nickname if it isn't Cassy."

Dean pursed his lips, thinking. "Casablanca."

"No."

"Casper the friendly ghost."

"No."

"Clarence?"

"What? No!"

"Okay, fine, I give up. I can't think of anything other than Cassy." Dean looked profoundly disappointed for some reason, and Cas couldn't tell if he wanted to laugh at him or hug him.

"Well, Cas is a nickname, right?" Cas suggested.

Dean considered. "Yeah, okay, fine. That works. Not like I've ever really called you anything else, but-"

"Still counts."

Dean shrugged. "Fine. I guess it'd be weird if I called you Castiel. Or Mr. Novak."

Cas winced. "Mr. Novak was my father, Dean. Being called that would be awful."

"And Castiel?"

"Weirdly formal, I guess. I'm so used to you calling me Cas that it'd be bizarre. I mean, I don't have any problems with people calling me by my full name, usually." Cas considered. "But I think you should keep calling me Cas."

"Okay, then, Cas," Dean said, smiling. "I am going to go soundcheck and try not to die. Wanna come along?"

"Oh, boy, do I," Cas replied instantly, grabbing his trench coat from a nearby chair.

"Uh, be warned, it really is really hot out there, probably."

Cas wrinkled his nose. "And I thought I was escaping the heat by escaping Texas. Thanks a lot, Dean Winchester."

"You know you love it," Dean said, laughing. "Seriously, let's go or we'll be late."

"Okay, okay," Cas conceded, leaving the coat. "Let's go."

They went down the bus steps and both blinked in the bright sun, Dean sneezing at the sudden change in light. "Allergies," he explained, rubbing his eyes with his Cas-free hand.

"You live here and you're literally allergic to the air?" Cas clarified with an incredulous grin. Dean nodded grimly.

"Told you I wasn't the biggest fan of this damn place." Dean glanced down at the watch on the wrist closest to his face and Cas could see the gears turning in his head as he calculated the time until the concert. "We got half an hour or so 'till the show."

"Alright," Cas shrugged, adjusting his hand in Dean's grip a little. "So are we going to breakfast or the concert hall or what?"

"Um..." Dean chewed on the inside of his lip. "Good question. I actually don't go out much when I'm here, so I don't know all too many good breakfast places." He caught a glimpse of a shaded alley, and pulled Cas along toward it. "In the meantime, though, we should probably take backroads to the concert hall. Don't want to attract attention, y'know."

"I know," Cas sighed. "Never did before meeting you." He allowed Dean to drag him into the alley, where he blinked, adjusting to the darkness.

Dean babbled on happily for another couple minutes or so, swinging their linked hands between them like a child. The alley twisted and turned a few times, but Dean appeared to know where he was going. Dean was just about to stop walking and pull Cas toward him, taking advantage of the quiet and solitude there, when two dark shapes detached themselves from the wall a few yards away and a soft voice said, "Hi, Dean."

"Hey, fellas," Dean said coolly, dropping Cas's hand but not breaking stride. "Sorry, I'm not doing autographs just now."

"Oh, we don't want your autograph," one of the men laughed, a glimmer of something unrecognizable in his dark eyes. "You used to go out with Carmen Porter, right?"

Dean's jaw tightened imperceptibly. "Yeah," he said after a brief pause, slowing and looking at the guys. "Long time ago."

"I'm her cousin," the first one to speak said. "Nice to meet ya."

"Likewise," Dean said, eyes darting around the alley as though looking for an escape route.

"And I'm her brother," the second man said. "She still talks about you, you know."

"I didn't know, actually," Dean said, taking another step forward past the men. "Tell her I said hi, wouldja?"

"She doesn't say good things," Carmen's brother said, voice dropping ominously low. "Says you didn't treat her well and all."

"Crazy talk," Dean said, almost indignant. "I treat every lady like a queen."

"That's the thing," the cousin said, white teeth glinting in the dusk of the alley. "Every lady. There were a couple more when you were with Carmen, yeah?"

Dean swallowed, back still rigid and shoulders still set. "Like I said," he said, not meeting either of the men's eyes. "It was a long time ago."

"Not that long."

"You can talk to him at the concert," Cas interrupted quietly, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder-blades and guiding him a few steps forward before removing his touch. "But we should really go, now, Dean." Cas shot another encouraging glance at Dean before calmly walking past the men and turning right, into another side alley.

It took him five and a half steps before he realised that Dean wasn't with him.

"Dean?" Cas asked, pulse quickening, as he turned back around, scanning the alley around him. Dean wasn't there. Cas ran the last few steps back to the mouth of the alley he was currently in- and everything slowed down.

Dean was pinned against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, a hand pressing at his throat and another at his chest, choking him and crushing him. The man that wasn't keeping him bound was standing close, too close, hissing something low in Dean's ear before taking a step back, allowing the captor to take his fist off Dean's chest and bring it across Dean's face, again and again and again and again and again and again and Cas was running, no, flying, tie coming undone, as he darted under the captor's arms, pushed away, and Dean was falling to the ground, gasping for breath, blood everywhere on his face, bleeding nose, split lip, scrapes across the entire left side of his face, hair mussed and bruises already forming on his collarbone and neck, and the other man approached Castiel but Cas had seen that coming, threw an arm around his neck and squeezed until the man choked and begged for release, until the surprised ex-captor took a step in and raised his fists in an attempt to push Cas off, but Castiel kicked him in the shin, brought him another step back, and Cas released the choking man, spinning him across the alley, dizzy and wheezing, and then Castiel was grabbing the other man by the shoulders, pulling him down, kneeing him in the stomach, standing in between Dean and the man, protecting him, taking a blow to the solar plexus and coughing, doubling over, but bringing his hands up just in time to protect himself from a hit to the face, then using those same hands to grab the man by his hair and pull, pull him away, bring his face up so Castiel could bring his hand up and using the heel of his palm, jab up and there was a crunch and blood was everywhere and the man was clutching at his nose and Cas turned away and deflected a hit from the other man, hitting him just right, bringing him to his knees-

and Castiel spit the blood in his mouth onto the ground, wiped his hands on his shirt, and stepped away.

"I'm done," he said, voice shaking and cracking, breath uneven. "I'm done." He took another step back, faltered, he felt his knees start to go weak, but Dean was there, Dean had managed to stand up, and was clutching at his shoulders and keeping him up, barely able to say, "Cas-" before his voice gave out and he tugged Cas toward him, away from the men.

Cas's eyes were wide, red-rimmed, and there was a trickle of blood running down his face from a tiny cut just by his hairline. He steeled himself, took a shuddering breath, looked Dean up and down, seeing how he shook, seeing how he winced with every breath. Cas began to speak, but stopped, grimaced in pain, coughed, and managed to get out, "Let's- let's get you patched up." He took a lurching step away and threw Dean's arm around his shoulder before Dean could fall, supporting him and starting to walk out of the alley onto the main street where the other bus stood.

The whole time, Dean kept trying to form words, kept breathing into Cas's hair, breath hitching and faltering, and nothing was said. Cas dragged him along, somehow managing to walk, until they reached the side of the bus. Dean slipped his arm from over Cas's shoulder and collapsed against the side of the bus, leaning against it as hard as he could so he wouldn't fall.

"Dean? Is that- oh, my God." Cas glanced up, and Sam's head was poking out the window, but it vanished a second later and Sam ran out of the bus, slipping into a jacket and reaching for his phone. "We need to get you two to the hall until the medics get here," he said, voice panicked. "I can help walk."

The three of them lurched into the hall, and there were people suddenly everywhere around them, pulling them away from each other, but Dean shook his head, clutched at Cas, scraped hands grasping for any hold, and they were allowed to go to the dressing rooms together as people swarmed around them, saying words that neither Cas nor Dean could understand.

"We need to call a doctor- someone call a doctor!"

"I'm fine," Dean muttered, coughing out the words. "I'm fine."

Dean and Cas were both ushered into the brightly lit dressing room, first aid kits appeared from nowhere, phones were buzzing all around the room.

"They say they can get someone here in half an hour," a young woman announced from the corner of the room.

"We're gonna have to cancel the show tonight!" one of the higher-ups yelled from the hallway. "Right now, we just need to get everyone healed up."

Cas cleared his throat. "I- I have medical training," he said hesitantly, and a slight hush fell over the room. "I could attend to Dean and myself until a proper doctor arrives."

"Yes," Dean said, swallowing so his throat was less dry and he could talk. "That's a good idea." The people milling around the room stopped, and the walls echoed with the sounds of indecisive mumbling. Dean coughed again, and added, "Y'all can go. I'll be fine with Cas. Really."

After a few more worried looks, the various people filed slowly out of the room and Dean and Cas were left alone.

Cas couldn't meet Dean's gaze, so he shifted a little awkwardly and walked over to the sink, reaching for the first aid kit and unclasping the lid.

"Hey," Dean said softly, so softly that his vocal chords barely strained at the word.

Cas ignored him, taking a deep breath and turning the water on in the sink, washing the blood from his hands and hissing at the pain as it slid around the tiny lacerations lining his skin. He wiped the water from his hands with a towel and slowly unbuttoned the buttons at his wrists, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows before taking another paper towel, wetting it, and gingerly wiping it across his face to get the blood traces off.

"Hey," Dean repeated, a little louder, but regretted it a second later as his voice trailed off into a pained squeak.

"Yes, Dean?" Cas asked, trying to keep his voice calm. He wiped the last of the blood off of his face and threw the paper towel away, taking the first aid kit and turning to face Dean.

Dean opened his mouth to talk, but instead winced and looked desperately at the glass of water someone had poured a few minutes ago. Cas instantly took it and extended it to Dean, who smiled weakly and gulped the whole thing down, gratitude written across every bruised inch of his face. "So," he rasped, setting the glass down. "Cas. We need to talk about what happened."

"You saw what happened," Cas said calmly, taking a few bandages out of the first aid kit. "They were attacking you. And I stepped in."

"Cas- each of those guys was well over 250 pounds," Dean said, raising an eyebrow. "There were two of them and one of you and both of them are probably in the ER right now crying for their mommies. How did you do that?" His eyes widened a fraction. "Are you, like, a spy? Like James Bond or something? Or a cyborg?"

Cas shook his head and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'm none of those things."

"Tell me what you are, then. The full story. No beating around the bush or anything this time."

Cas sighed, taking the first aid box in one hand and a disinfecting wipe in the other. "Fine." It was now Castiel who straddled Dean, sitting down in his lap with a leg on either side of Dean's thighs. There was a sharp intake of breath from Dean, but Cas smiled, murmuring something about not wanting to give him the wrong idea and raising the wipe to Dean's face. "This may sting a bit," Cas warned, and Dean gave a nod and steeled himself.

"So are you going to tell me?" Dean asked, wincing a little as Cas gently touched one of the scrapes running along his left cheekbone.

Cas closed his eyes for a second, resigned himself, opened his eyes to meet Dean's curious gaze, and began to tell his story.


	15. Jacksonville, part two

**Alright, folks. This is it. The last chapter for... well, a while.**

**I've got, like, three other fanfic projects going- the serial killer AU, the shipwrecked AU, and a '50s AU- and I'll be posting those at some point, too.**

**But this story is, as I said, temporarily on hold for an indeterminate amount of time.**

**Please review if you enjoy this chapter, and please feel free to give me suggestions for how I can continue this story in the future! And even if you don't enjoy it, please review anyway so I can understand how I need to improve.**

***kisses***

* * *

"I think- I told you about how my brothers taught me how to fight, yes?" Not waiting for confirmation, Castiel continued. "They did. So I could defend myself in high school. Um, the two eldest in the family were semi-athletic types, so they knew how to keep themselves in shape and stuff and I guess I went along for the ride. Plus, Gabe watched a lot of awful action movies as a teenager, and I learned some stuff from those. And when the time came- freshman year, y'know, very first day of high school- I was ready." Cas made a face and paused his narrative. "Apologies in advance for how horrifically cheesy all of this will doubtlessly sound." He took a deep breath and continued, simultaneously dabbing antiseptic to Dean's forehead. "I was quiet in high school and I'm still quiet, I guess. But back then I was a complete wallflower. No one really expected me to stand up for myself the way I ended up doing. The football jocks thought it'd be a really great idea to throw me around a bit- I was an easy mark, obviously. Stupid name, stupid hair, not into sports. I was a walking stereotype of the average bullying victim. And then-" Cas shrugged. "It's a bit of a blur. There were, like, three guys- football players, like I said, so they were pretty huge- and one me. And I wasn't popular at all, so no one was going to come help me. So they surround me, right? And I just- I stopped thinking. And went a little crazy, I guess. Sent one to the nurse with a mild concussion and gave one a broken nose. The other ran away before I could get to him. I was suspended for a week and on probation for a month. Um. So no one really messed with me too much after that, like I said." Castiel paused, swallowed, reached over and grabbed another package of disinfecting wipes and resumed his story. "People stayed away from me for the rest of high school. Don't know why. I mean, yeah, that whole thing was in my first week of school, and I didn't exactly make any efforts to reach out to anyone, but..." Cas trailed off, shrugging, and Dean made a commiserative sound.

"You- you didn't have any close friends in high school, then?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and with an odd mixture of pity and awe on his face.

Cas shook his head. "A couple over the years. But they all moved on. I wasn't too much fun at parties, so they found people that were." He waved his free hand in the air as if to brush the question away. "It's fine. That's not the problem here. Or- I don't know. Maybe you've discovered something and all my issues stem from that." He half-smiled. "Anyway. I didn't have any more incidents like that in high school. Though I probably did become the valiant bystander or whatever the kids call it these days a couple times. Saving damsels in distress if the situation demanded it, that kinda thing." Cas placed a hand on Dean's jaw, turning his head to the right so he could assess the cut running in front of Dean's ear. "I was no hero, though, don't get me wrong. Most of the time I was too lazy or too buried in a book to care." He smiled bitterly. "You'd probably have hated me in high school." Cas ignored Dean's hiss of pain as he mopped the drying blood away from the cut, and continued talking. "But that wasn't a major time in my life. It was college when everything really went to hell."

"You told me-"

"No, I didn't," Cas interrupted, sliding off Dean's lap and standing over the sink, his back intentionally turned to Dean, washing his hands and moistening some new paper towels. "I barely told you anything. And if I did, it was highly edited."

"So... does that mean I'm about to get the director's cut now?" Dean asked, mouth twitching up in an encouraging smile.

Instead of answering Dean's question properly, Cas just began to explain. "I did tell you that my family was really oppressive. Understatement. And then, when I got out of high school- guess I went a little crazy. Experimenting with literally everything about myself. I made sure that I applied only to colleges that were nice and _really _far away from home, 'cause that meant no supervision. And- yeah. I went crazy. Dyed my hair. Considered getting at least five tattoos, but backed out at the last minute in a sober moment. Drank enough for a whole bar at a time. And- okay, yeah, drugs." He rolled his eyes, even though he knew Dean couldn't see his face. "Like, a lot of drugs. Of various sorts. I wasn't high as much as I was drunk, but- I was very rarely not under some type of influence. I was failing half my classes- kind of a big deal, what with there not being all too many Journalism majors at my school. Everyone knew about it, pretty much, and I won't say I was a joke amongst my peers, but-" Cas shrugged. "I was a joke. A trainwreck. Every time report cards started getting mailed out, I'd sneak into the back room of the post office and steal mine out so my family wouldn't have any idea. And they didn't question that they never heard from my school, 'cause all my older siblings went to completely different colleges from each other and my parents never knew what to expect from a school. So I was happy in my drunken web of lies and half-truths. I tried to sober up for when my mom would call- she called every Saturday morning- but usually we'd just end up having a screaming match and I'd need to drink myself senseless afterwards anyway." Cas sighed, slumping forwards onto the counter, supporting himself firmly on his hands, palms flat on the surface of the sink area. "I had friends, yeah- burnouts, like me. Can barely remember what any of them looked like, now. We were high or drunk or whatever combination of the two, like, 80 percent of the time we were together." He turned and leaned back onto the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at the ground, trying to keep his voice steady. "It got to the point where most of the time I wouldn't even bother showing up for classes. I'd pay someone to take notes for me, though most of the time I had to borrow money from my friends 'cause I'd spent all of mine on booze or whatever. And I'd laze around in bed all day in various stages of intoxication. Women came and went. Like, way more women than I even like to think about. It was- it was awful. _I _was awful." Castiel drew circles on the ground with his toe, following his foot's movement with his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at Dean and see the loathing that was surely written on his face. "So... it had to end sometime, right? No one can live that way forever. You either burn out for good, overdose, drink yourself to death- or it stops. And at the time, I seriously thought I was going for the first option, but I didn't mind. To be honest, I was having the time of my life. I thought that was what life was all about. Instant gratification, free love, drinking, drugs, party all the time. I'd never known anything else, so that seemed right to me. All my morals were completely gone."

"So if you were having such a good time," Dean began softly, "why'd you stop?"

Cas almost looked up at him at those words- Dean's tone seemed to be exactly the opposite of what Cas had figured Dean's reaction would be. However, he decided that would be too distracting, and just shook his head. "I broke. It was- it was an average day. That's the way it always starts. And I was just going to a bar with a couple friends, same way we always did every night. And-" Cas uncrossed his arms to run a hand through his hair and sighed. "I don't know. I got drunk. I got in- I got in a bar fight. A stupid, stereotypical bar fight. Except-" He swallowed, and waited a few seconds before continuing. "It didn't end well. For anyone. The bartender kicked us out after punches started being thrown, so we took it to the alley behind the bar." Cas stopped, taking a shaky breath and raising his head to look up at the ceiling, voice becoming monotone in order to keep himself from tears. "I broke two of his ribs, bruised his liver, and fractured both his wrists. Messed up his legs, too. I ended up with a black eye and a split lip. And- and he got sent to the ER and was in critical condition for a few days, because he was asthmatic and I triggered an attack." A tingling behind Castiel's eye, and a tear broke free. He swiped at it angrily, continuing. "Only reason I didn't kill him was because I saw a cat crossing the street a few yards away and thought that'd be more interesting." He slouched even further, dropping his gaze to the floor again. "I got arrested, of course. Spent a few days in a county jail. Gabriel had to leave a literary conference to come bail me out. And my mom basically told him to tell me that she was done with me. Like, disowning me or whatever. Which was-" Cas huffed out a bitter laugh. "Unsurprising. I guess. I should have seen it coming. So Gabe bailed me out and the cops handed me a whole bunch of fliers as we were walking out- rehab centers. They said they were keeping an eye on me, now. I had a criminal record. And in a college town, that isn't taken lightly, apparently. So they said they were expecting me to go to one of the centers and get all fixed up." Castiel allowed a melancholy smile to tug up at his mouth. "I wanted to end it all, of course. Just kill myself then and there. If anyone but Gabe had come to get me, I would have. But- he talked to me. Said he knew what I was going through. 'Cause he really did. And after that, after our talk- I, um, I knew I couldn't. I needed to pull myself out of this hell I was living. And I needed to face up to what I'd done and what I'd become. Fix everything I'd broken in my and others' lives." He shrugged. "And- rehab happened. The AA happened. I visited the guy in the hospital once, a few weeks after the fight. He spat in my face and cursed my name, but I just kept on apologising and walked out of there feeling like a more acceptable excuse for a human being. Knowing I was changing for the better. So I gave up drinking and I gave up drugs and I washed the dye out of my hair and broke up with all my girlfriends and threw out all my clothes and bought new ones. And I went back to college, and re-took all the classes I'd failed, and graduated top of my class. Applied to every major paper in the county, and the surrounding counties, and most of the state, but none of them would really take me 'cause of my record. But then I got a lucky break- I met Balthazar, my boss, by complete accident when an elevator in a hotel broke down. We got to talking, and he liked the sound of me, I guess, and gave me a second chance at being a journalist. And the rest, as they say, is history. I was five years sober. Hadn't even been in the same room as any of the drugs I'd taken in college since I gave it all up. And I was better. No- I _am _better. This- I can get over this. The getting drunk with you thing. And what just happened. Two incidents. Those are hurdles I can jump and ignore. It's fine. I'm fine. And-" Castiel sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Now- now you know. Now you know what I am."

It was a long moment before Cas dragged his eyes up to see how Dean had reacted, waiting and ready to be hated and pushed away.

Dean was sitting there, mouth hanging open, eyes bright. He closed his mouth, blinked once, twice, and opened it again, and just shook his head and breathed, "I love you."

Electricity jolted up Castiel's veins, and his eyes widened in total disbelief. "You-"

"I love you," Dean said, a little louder, standing from his chair and taking a slow step towards Cas. "I mean it."

Cas's mind had spun to a halt, and he scrambled desperately for words. "But-"

"But nothing," Dean said firmly, taking another step forward so Castiel could just barely feel his breath on his face. "You- Cas, that's the most incredible story I've ever heard. And- I don't know. I just needed to say it. I need you to know that I'm in love with you. 'Cause I felt it so strong and I couldn't not say it. And it's fine if you don't say it back, but-"

"I love you, too," Cas interrupted, heart pounding in his ears. "Of course I do, Dean. So, so much. I-"

But his next words were cut off by the feel of Dean's mouth on his, Dean's hand in his hair, the warmth of Dean's chest against his own. "Good to know we're on the same page," Dean said hoarsely, pulling away an inch or two to rest his forehead against Castiel's. "Really, really good."

An idiotic grin spread across Cas's face, and he closed his eyes. "And- you're not put off by what I just told you?"

Dean made a noncommittal sound. "Honestly, Cas, I've heard way worse. The music industry is one bad business, y'know. And- yeah, sure, you did some fucked up shit, but we all make mistakes. I'm a good example of that. But look at you now! You're- you're- perfect. You're still hating yourself for it even now, and if that ain't an example of being a really, really _pure _person, I don't know what is. You got morals, Cas. That's rare these days. And you rose above all your issues and fought through and now everything's great for you." He tilted his jaw forward a bit and caught Cas's mouth with his briefly before leaning back again. "And I love you."

Cas shivered involuntarily, moving closer to Dean and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. "Thank you," he murmured. "So many people run away from me when I tell them that story. Not—not that I've told many people, that is. But the ones that I have told left me soon after. And to have you tell me what you just did—it means everything, Dean."

"Aw, shucks," Dean said into Cas's hair. "Just being honest, Cas. You don't need to thank me for being sincere."

"It's a lot more than most other people are," Cas said doubtfully.

Dean smirked. "Well, I'm not most other people."

Cas sighed. "I guess you're right." They separated, and Castiel was suddenly afraid again. "You—you won't tell anyone, right?"

Dean made a shocked face. "Of course I won't. I'm totally trustworthy. You know that."

Castiel nodded, catching Dean's mouth in another kiss. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_."

The concert ended up being cancelled, despite Dean's protests—but it was for the best in the end, because the two of them got to spend a lot more time together than they usually did. _Back to the Future_ was on TV, so Dean sat Castiel down with a bag of popcorn and made him sit through the whole thing. Neither party involved minded in the slightest.

As they drove away from Jacksonville later that night, they left the negative events of that city behind them in more ways than one.


End file.
